Paris Days
by mina1011
Summary: Complete This year, Hogwarts has a competiton for it's older students. 3 weeks, 2 students,and 1 prize...Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy both know, to survive the streets of Paris, & to win the 5,000 galleons...they will have to leave their past behind.
1. The Competition

**Paris Days**

Chapter 1 - The Competition

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**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, plots or stories. **

**A/N: Hey guys, this is the first chapter to (what I hope!) will be a pretty cool fic! If you have any comments/suggestions, please tell me by reviewing! I really want to know if you think I should continue or not...enjoy! Oh and just to let you know, this was called Muggle-World Life Skills, but I changed it too Paris Days, because...well, you'll see! R&R  
Byeeeeeee! x**

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As per usual, the buzz in the Great Hall was immense, and intensified by the long months of absence. Students milled around in large groups, calling out to friends they hadn't seen over the summer and introducing new ones that had passed the years undetected. Younger students crowed excitedly about moving up in the ranks as seventh years strutted around importantly, surveying the room with more mature eyes than they had the year before. 

For most of the seventh years it was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying to be arriving into the Great Hall for their last year. All of them were eager to get through to the real world, but deserting the haven they had enjoyed for the past seven years was somewhat nerve-wracking. None of them had any idea what was to come in their lives post-Hogwarts, but many were eager to find out. For the time being however, most were content to live up to their seventh year status and make the most of their last year.

The summer holidays had a tendency of bringing out the best of people upon their return to Hogwarts. Most students looked better and felt ready to start the school year. It was interesting to see everyone again; they always seemed to change since the end of last year.

Ron had grown—_again_. He certainly looked (almost) 18, and many girls were surprised to find he wasn't the tall, gangly, red-headed first year he used to be, but a handsome adult—and it was safe to say that being goal-keeper in Quidditch had worked out quite well for him. He was getting quite a few looks from some of the girls. Ron however didn't seem to notice the gawking of his peers because he was quite intently focused on his best friend Harry who happened to be holding the hand of his one and only little sister.

Harry, for his part, didn't seem to notice his friend's frustrations as he was finding it increasingly difficult to tear his gaze from Ginny, much to Ron's annoyance. To everyone else who wasn't related to one of them, it was cute to see how in love they were, and however many times Ron gave them a bad look, it didn't seem to faze them one bit. They had been doing it all summer, and they certainly weren't going to stop now.

Hermione sighed; wishing someone would look at her like Harry was looking at Ginny. The summer had been long and hot, and Hermione was sad to note that there hadn't been much change in her own appearance. She was confident enough to admit that she wasn't ugly, but she wasn't vain enough to overlook some of her obvious faults. She wasn't the prettiest in her year but there was something about her that seemed to captivate people. It was almost as if the years of studying had paid off and blessed her with an almost _intelligent _boldness to her face that brought out her previously-bland facial features. It wasn't often that someone noticed this somewhat appealing trait however as people tended to focus their energies on the things she did rather than the girl she had become.

Sitting down, Hermione was greeted by several of her old friends. Dean Thomas and Seamus both waved hello to her and several heads nodded in her direction. After having been a Gryffindor for seven years now, she had grown fairly used to the inhabitants and was proud to say that she was on good footing with everyone

Hermione glanced around, as if to make sure she had greeted everyone appropriately before sitting between Ron and Harry. Harry however, was situated so that his back was to Hermione so that he could face Ginny and Ron was doing a terrible job of ignoring the couple altogether.

"So, what you think this is about?" Ron wondered aloud, turning to Hermione for clarification, as if she would know why McGonagall had called a meeting for the sixth and seven years. Hermione leaned in, preparing to tell Ron that his guess was as good as hers, when McGonagall approached the platform.

McGonagall, as well as Dumbledore before her, had the uncanny ability to silence a room by simply standing up or uttering a single word. It was as if she didn't need words to give a distinct impression of her superiority—her presence alone was enough. It was the kind of control Hermione wished she would someday be able to acquire and had always admired the woman for it.

"Good evening to you all and welcome back," she began curtly, addressing all necessary platitudes before continuing with her purpose, "As you all know, there is only a short time left before you all leave Hogwarts in search of greater things." McGonagall's voice was calm, and although she spoke with a normal tone, everyone in the hall could hear her clearly.

"With this is mind, we have decided that instead of the usual 6 week course we provide on getting to know Muggle world life skills, we have decided to make things more," McGonagall paused, "_interesting_." She glanced over to the Slytherin tables where it was apparent everyone was doing their best to ignore her.

"The staff feels that given the circumstances you will most likely face once out of Hogwarts, it is important for you to know how to live with Muggles surrounding you in everyday life, so it is vital that Hogwarts gives you some kind of perspective to this way of living."

There was some obvious muttering of disapproval from the Slytherin table. To Hermione, it seemed as if they had _any_ association with Muggles, it would kill them.

"But to make it more interesting as well as to make sure that the task is carried out to completion," a quick glance to the Slytherin table made it clear who exactly this was directed at, "we have decided to make this course into a competition."

When everybody heard the word _competition_, people started to mutter to their friends and the room was generally a lot more interested and excited than before. It had an effect on people, as soon as something became a race, or the chance of being better than someone else, everyone was drawn in to this prospect. _Nice one_, Hermione couldn't help but think.

"This year, we thought to give you a practical course, which is also more likely something that you won't forget as easily and although the Hogwarts course is successful there's nothing like trying it hands-on. So, everyone will be assigned a partner and will be sent to a Muggle environment for three weeks."

There was a stunned silence as Minerva continued.

"Each pair must use the least amount of magic as possible to try and enrich your knowledge on the area. You will be expected to gain a few Muggle friends, and be successful at a Muggle job, which we will assign to you appropriately. The winners will get 5000 galleons each."

The students, who had all been incredulously silent, now exploded in cheers and laughter, but before they could talk to one another, McGonagall continued.

"We have also taken into account that some of you have had more contact with the Muggle world than others, so to accommodate that, each couple have the equal amount of exposure to their previous interaction with Muggles, to make it fairer."

Hermione was extremely excited, along with Harry, because they had both grown up in a Muggle environment, meaning they would have a bigger chance of success. Ron however, was looking rather gloomy.

"We have already sorted out the partners, and you will be leaving tonight to your new location."

Excitement pulsated through the room, everyone hoping to win and eager to participate. Even the Slytherins looked eager, although it was probably more to do with the significant prize money as opposed to the actual learning experience.

Not to mention the fact that it was a great excuse to mess around for three weeks.

McGonagall didn't seem to notice the green-eyed students though, as she had already started to read out the names of the partners and fund them appropriately, with £500, keys to their new home, a map to their location, and a handbook for how to live with Muggles—with a few additional notes on the rules inside the book.

Then, each couple would leave the Great Hall, and spend their last remaining hours at Hogwarts packing their bags, going over the rules, and eagerly awaiting 9:00pm, when they would be given their tickets to their destination—by airplane.

"Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley," McGonagall called out, eliciting a furious groan from Ron, but Harry and Ginny didn't seem to notice or even care about this. They were too busy going up to receive their dues, leaving Ron to moan about the fact that his little sister was staying with her boyfriend 3 weeks, without his supervision.

Hermione however knew they were going to have a great time and found herself smiling at her friends' enthusiasm. She knew it was a logical decision too. Harry, like her, had grown up without knowing anything about the wizarding world, and was raised basically, as a muggle. Ginny was a pure-blood, and had known what magic was her whole life.

Hermione crossed her fingers, hoping she got as lucky.

Little by little the Great Hall began to filter out as more and more people got paired off. Soon, Hermione was one of the last people remaining and her choices were rather slim. What felt like an eternity, but in fact was just a few minutes later, McGonagall paused before calling out her last pair.

"Hermione Granger and—,"

Hermione closed her eyes, praying for _anyone _but—

"—Draco Malfoy."

Shit.


	2. Paris

**Chapter 2**

**Paris****

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****Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

**A/N: Hey guys, so here's chapter 2! I hope it's what you guys were expecting! Sorry for the wait, usually I'm a much quicker updater :P  
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"Good luck 'Mione," Ron said sympathetically, looking up at his best friend. He really did feel quite sorry for her—well, he felt sorry for _anyone _who was stuck with _Malfoy _for three weeks. Ron glanced over to Hermione's panic-stricken face and touched her hand understandingly. _She must be terrified_, he thought to himself, recalling how only moments before he had been lamenting his own choice of partner.

Standing up, Hermione squared her jaw bravely and nodded towards the few people who had congregated around her to offer up their sympathies. Looking across the room, she noticed the Slytherin table doing the same. Malfoy, playing the part of the injured party perfectly, was standing in the middle of them all, acting rather put out and disgusted with his pick for partner. Even Pansy moved to hug him, throwing her arms about dramatically as if trying to swim, but Malfoy stood quickly, shooting Hermione a look of disgust as if she personally had arranged for the motley pairing. _Oh this will be fun_, Hermione thought sarcastically to herself, rolling her eyes and following Malfoy's lead towards McGonagall.

Judging by the look on McGonagall's face, it was obvious that she had anticipated some sort of retaliation from the duo regarding their assignment, a fact that instantly made Hermione pause. She didn't want to cause trouble—in fact, she much preferred blending into the background of things—but the current situation seemed to warrant some type of clarification.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger," McGonagall began, nodding at each in acknowledgement. "Before you start trying to convince me what a grave mistake has been made, let me assure you that I have thought it over very carefully already and I have decided that both of you are quite capable of putting your previous misunderstandings aside, so as to make this competition work in favor for you. I trust that you can both work past your differences in order to make this a success." Her tone was pleading, as if she hoped this was the furthest the confrontation would go, but her meaning was crystal clear.

Deal with it.

Malfoy gaped incredulously at McGonagall. Regardless of what their past held, how could anyone expect them to live with eachother for three _weeks _and not hex eachother into oblivion? It was too implausible, even for McGonagall who seemed oddly pleased with the match. Malfoy had to bite his lip to keep from yelling at the old bat. _Just wait until my father hears about this! He'll be furious! It's a ridiculous class to begin with—no pureblooded wizard should have to lower himself to Muggle standards—and just wait until he hears who I was paired up with! He'll have an apoplexy for sure!_

"You have the choice of two cities, New York or Paris," McGonagall was saying now, surveying the thick piece of parchment she had taken from the folds of her robes.

"New Yo-," Hermione began but was cut off by Malfoy whose demand for Paris quickly overrode her own. Hermione bit her lip, seething. She knew he had only chosen Paris because she had been about to ask for New York and was about to have a fit at his ignorance.

"You _do_ know that if we go to Paris we'll have to learn French," Hermione pointed out as calmly as she could, although her tone made it clear that she was far from complacent and understanding.

"I know Granger," Malfoy spat rigidly, as if he were speaking to someone slow. Judging by the sudden panicky look on his face however, Hermione wasn't so sure he had thought of the obvious language barriers before making his decision. _God he's aggravating_, Hermione though to herself, turning to McGonagall who was half-smiling at the duo.

"Well now that that is sorted, we'll have our things please," Draco clipped, sounding both haughty and polite. It was like trying to decipher some sort of hidden code, Hermione figured, never knowing exactly what he was saying.

McGonagall smiled and handed him a bag containing all the necessary items. Grabbing it—rather roughly, Hermione noticed—Malfoy proceeded to stalk out of the room. Hermione watched him go, sharing a pitying look with McGonagall before trotting out next to him, hurrying to catch up. Hermione sighed.

This was certainly going to be interesting.

* * *

As soon as Hermione had exited the Great Hall she became aware of two things. One was that Malfoy really _was _a pretentious git, and the other was that he was nowhere in sight. She had tried to catch up with him on the way out without seeming as if she were his dog, chasing after him, but when that had proved impossible; she had slowed her pace and resigned to meet up with him in the hallway. Now however that didn't seem to be an option as the detestable Slytherin had completely folded into the darkness and was nowhere in sight. _Surprise, surprise, _Hermione thought wryly to herself before a hand grabbed her arm, eliciting a surprisingly high pitched yelp from the startled Gryffindor. 

"Bloody hell Granger, were the theatrics necessary?" Malfoy growled, wincing slightly as if the noise had scared him. _Good, _Hermione thought, her hand clasped over her beating heart, _let him know how it feels for once_.

"What were you _thinking _lurking around in the dark like that? Contrary to what _you _maybe believe, I don't make a habit of skulking around dark corridors and jumping out at people!" Hermione snapped, her heart still racing a million miles per minute.

"Calm down Granger, it wasn't as if I donned a Voldemort mask and jumped out screaming the killing curse at you. I merely tried to get your attention. Don't worry, I doubt it will ever happen again," Draco noted dryly, walking past her. It wasn't until he had disappeared into the corridor once more that Hermione realized her hadn't told her anything of what he intended to. Before she could dwell on it for very long though, a panic-stricken Ron walked into the corridor, his eyes glazed over as if having witnessed something truly horrible.

"Ron—are you okay? What happened?" Hermione asked tentatively, reaching out to him.

"Mhmm," Ron muttered nonsensically, walking past her as if caught in a daze. Hermione was going to reach out to him and ask who he had been placed with when a puff of brown hair bounded out from the hall and into Ron's arms. Hermione tried to suppress a smile.

_Lavender. _

Hermione tried not to laugh, but it was funny to see Ron's reaction. He was a guy; he wanted a girl—especially one so willing. But Lavender? She was rather good looking, but what she made up for in looks she lacked in conversation skills. Three weeks with her would be like three weeks of talking to a board. Patting Ron's shoulder sympathetically, Hermione brushed past the duo and headed towards the common room.

* * *

Hermione walked into the Gryffindor common room and scanned the room for Harry and Ginny who had disappeared some time ago and had yet to reappear. Most of the other sixth and seventh years were spread around the room, discussing their locations and partners—the same thing Hermione _wished _she was excited about—but Harry and Ginny were cuddled by the fire, whispering and smiling to eachother. 

Hermione walked over to the interlocked duo, pausing awkwardly in front of them. They were so involved with eachother that it took a few seconds before Ginny even realized that Hermione was standing next to her, waiting to be noticed. Pulling away from Harry, she smiled brightly up at her friend, oblivious to Hermione's irritation with the whole project.

"Hey Hermione—how'd it go?" Harry asked brightly, pulling away from Ginny but still keeping his arms circling her petite waist. Hermione sighed.

"Guess who I got," she deadpanned, arms crossed over her chest. Ginny frowned.

"Well as long as it isn't Malfoy, it can't be _too _bad," she reasoned. When Hermione didn't answer, she gasped. "No way! You have _got _to be kidding me!"

"Oh no Hermione—you didn't get _Malfoy _did you? Surely you can talk to McGonagall and have her switch you?" Harry offered, throwing Hermione a sympathetic glance.

"She's already tried that," Ron offered, stumbling through the portrait hole and over to the trio huddled by the fire. "It's a no go." For a minute he stood stone still before collapsing into a chair. He looked rather spent, and his hair was unusually ruffled.

"You seem to have had your hands full," Ginny remarked coyly, glancing over to the portrait hole where Lavender was coming in, throwing a mischievous wink towards Ron. You've seem to be busy.' Ginny said smiling, when she saw Lavender walk into the room, and give an obvious wink to Ron who turned away.

"Let's just say that this is going to be a long three weeks," Ron groaned, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"I know how you feel," Hermione grimaced, falling down next to him. They glanced to Harry and Ginny for confirmation, but found no agreement on that end. They seemed content to smile lovingly towards eachother and Ron seemed content to ignore it—he had his own problems to deal with. Turning away from the disturbing scene, Ron glanced sympathetically towards Hermione.

"So, you and Malfoy, huh?" He asked inquiringly, "I wonder how that's going to work out." Hermione groaned.

"I'm glad someone can get some happiness out of my misery," she complained.

"Don't worry Hermione—if he's anything less than a gentleman to you, I'll make sure he'll never forget it," he warned. Before, it would have made Hermione laugh, but judging by Ron's new, rather _grown up _appearance assured Hermione he could—and _would_—follow through with his threat.

"Thanks Ron," Hermione smiled. It never ceased to amaze her how her friends would always stick up for her.

* * *

Stepping into the airport early the next morning, Hermione wondered how the forty-odd wizards and witches looked to the other travels. It was a marvel they had all arrived—and somewhat on time, no less—as the packing and luggage situation had been somewhat short of bedlam. The Hogwarts students had all been sent to Heathrow with magical passports and transfigured tickets and so at least they had that under control. Everything else though seemed to be up in the air. 

For the majority of the morning Hermione had been trying to avoid Malfoy as best as she could, but now, as their flight was coming increasingly closer to takeoff, Hermione realized that actually locating the boy was somewhat more difficult than she imagined. Now, normally this would have been a blessing for Hermione except for one thing.

Malfoy had her ticket.

After nearly half and hour of frantic searching, Hermione came across the Slytherin, standing in the middle of a crowd of his friends, braying at the top of his lungs about how ridiculous the whole experience really was.

"—at least Granger will finally be good for something. She's basically a Muggle herself," Draco was laughing and, like all of the years before, Hermione found herself ignoring the comment and instead focusing on the situation at hand.

"Malfoy, if you don't mind I believe it's time for us to go. _Now_," Hermione snapped, storming over to him and grabbing his arm. He bristled but Hermione didn't worry. She knew that even Malfoy was smart enough not to attack her with all the people around, not to mention the scattered Hogwarts chaperones lurking around.

"Piss off Mudblood," Blaise grunted in annoyance, glancing over to Draco who had yanked his arm away and was shoving a piece of paper towards Hermione.

"Here's your ticket, now go away," he snapped dismissively, turning back to his friends. Hermione sighed. _Fine, see if I care whether or not he makes the plane._

Hermione walked away from the group of snickering Slytherins, slowly making her way back to her own small group of friends. They had agreed to meet by Hermione's gate (her plane left first) to say their goodbyes. For a second, the foursome just stared at eachother, as if unsure of how to say goodbyes. It was true that they usually parted for summer holidays, but they had never been apart while at school. It seemed unnatural. Finally, Ginny stepped up, wrapping Hermione in a hug.

"I'm going to miss you," Hermione whispered into her shock of red hair. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Ginny laughed slightly. She still looked like a little girl to Hermione (she could only imagine what Ron felt like!) but she knew that Ginny really was only a year younger than she was.

Hermione then turned to Harry, giving him a quick peck on the cheek along with a hug. She knew that he needed no reprimands—he was probably the most honest and caring boy she knew. He would never intentionally get Ginny into any sort of danger so she really had no warnings or advice to impart.

Turning to Ron, Hermione kissed him on the cheek and wrapped him in a hug, if only to piss off Lavender who hadn't left his side since the morning. She pretended not to notice the contact but the daggers she shot Hermione when no one else was looking proved all efforts to the contrary. Flushing, Ron promised to keep in contact.

Hermione turned then to Lavender, seemed to think better of it, and waved instead.

* * *

"One minute until takeoff. Please make sure your tray tables are up and your seatbelts are securely fastened." The comely flight attendant announced over the intercom. Hermione did just that, even tugging on the belt to assure that it was secure. Then, she turned her attention back to the situation at hand. 

_Damn Malfoy_, she cursed to herself. _He's not even here and he's driving me crazy!_

It was true too. Malfoy had yet to make an appearance and Hermione was beginning to wonder whether or not he planned to show up at all. It would be just like him to leave this entire assignment for her while he went off with some of his friends and spent the entire three weeks partying.

_What am I supposed to do if he doesn't show up? _Hermione wondered frantically, turning to catch the flight attendant. Turning in her seat, Hermione made for the assistance compartment.

"Excuse me..."

**So, what did you think of that? Well, hope you liked it!**


	3. Place Venôme

**Chapter 3**

**Place Venôme**

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**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything - sigh...**

**A/N: Errr...not much to say this time...but I really like how it's going, don't you? Can't wait to really get started with the plot, have some really cool idea's coming up, if you do happen to have a few suggestions, please do tell me! Well, byeee! x R&R!**

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Malfoy side-stepped Hermione just in time to avoid a collision and continued smooth talking his way out of his tardiness. The stewardess, who looked torn between scolding him and flirting with him was trying her best to chastise him for his sluggishness but stopped immediately when he flashed the trademark Malfoy smirk. Blushing deeply, she gave him a flirty smile and waved for him to sit down. As soon as he was seated, Draco leaned over to Hermione, a roguish smile playing on his lips.

"Worried about me Granger?" He drawled in a tone that made it clear he knew exactly what she had been doing. Hermione rolled her eyes and quickly turned away to hide her own blush.

"You wish—I was just going to ask about takeoff," she replied curtly, reaching for her carry on bag which had rolled over and was dangerously close to spilling all of it's contents on the floor below. Rather than being put out at her obvious distaste however, Draco chucked to himself, throwing a sideways glance towards Hermione.

"You're a crappy liar," he said flatly, turning towards the window and staring out at the runway as if that was the end of the conversation. Hermione sighed resignedly to herself, fighting the urge to pummel the boy beside her. If this was an indication as to how the next three weeks would be, Hermione was ready to resign immediately. It was bad enough having to put up with him when he was around—it didn't help any that she felt so responsible for him.

_Honestly_, Hermione reasoned to herself, _it isn't as if I'm his mother. I shouldn't have to keep watch on him at all hours of the day! _Even as the thought crossed her mind though, she knew she wouldn't be able to comply with her head's choice to let him flop on his own. The Muggle world was going to be a really big change for him—almost as much as the wizarding world had been for her—and despite their history, Hermione felt it her duty to make sure he managed.

* * *

"_Granger_!" 

Hermione shot up at the voice in her ear, pausing for a minute to orient herself before turning to Draco who was smirking next to her.

"What's wrong?" She demanded immediately, glancing around for any signs of trouble. She hadn't really meant to doze off, and knew that if Draco had gotten into any mischief while she was asleep it would be her responsibility to explain things.

"Time to wake up," Draco responded casually, grinning at her exasperated expression. Hermione groaned. Things had been going so well—until of course, she woke up.

"Thanks," Hermione drawled sarcastically, rubbing the last bit of sleep from her eyes. As long as she was awake, Hermione saw no reason to try and go back to sleep. She would no doubt be woken up again shortly anyway, either for the landing or for Malfoy's amusement.

"What are we going to do when we get there?" Draco demanded, turning to Hermione with the inquisition of a five year old whose temper was running thin.

"Figure it out yourself," Hermione snapped, wishing for the comfort of sleep again. She had been caught up in a dream in which she and Ron had been paired up and were going to New York where she most certainly would not have to learn a whole new language.

"Fine," Draco snapped back petulantly, reaching for the bag McGonagall had given them before their departure. Reaching in, Draco produced a piece of paper which he quickly scoured with squinted eyes. "It says our apartment is in Place Vendôme," he said, mangling the last part with his neophyte accent. Hermione thought she recognized the name though and quickly sat up.

"Oh, I know that—it's where the Ritz is," she surmised brightly, realizing she just may have a clue where they were going. Malfoy looked puzzled.

"The what?"

"The Ritz," Hermione repeated.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's one of the best, most expensive hotels in the world," Hermione recalled dreamily, remembering the holiday she had taken with her parents as a child. They had taken up residence at the Ritz and the part Hermione remembered most vividly was the sheer beauty and elegance of the hotel. She had barely wanted to leave at all.

"How do you know about something like that?" Draco demanded with a critical laugh. Hermione groaned tiredly, cursing McGonagall for setting her up with such a useless partner.

"I just know these things," she said after a moment, wishing Draco would go back to ignoring her. At least that left her with some peace. Fortune however was no on her side as Draco opened his mouth to ask another question.

"How far away is it from the—_airport_?" He asked, staring out the window again. Hermione was surprised he remembered the word for it. Then again, he was rather smart. However annoying or stupid he may have seemed, Hermione knew that he was actually pretty intelligent. Not that she liked to admit it, but they had been running in close competition since the end of fifth year when his essay for potions ran only a hair below hers. Since then, they had been engaged in an ongoing battle for the highest grades and all of the bragging rights that went along with them.

"Well," Hermione began, trying to mentally calculate the distance. "Probably quite a long time considering the city traffic can get quite horrific."

"Are we going to take a taxi?" Malfoy wondered aloud, the word _taxi _sounding foreign and unsure coming from his mouth. Hermione thought for a second.

"I haven't decided—it may be quicker to take the Metro." She considered thoughtfully.

"The what?"

"Metro."

"I still don't know what that is," Draco snapped with an air of annoyance and for the first time Hermione felt a pang of pity for him. She knew how hard it was to enter into a life where you didn't know anything, and knew how awkward it must be for him to have to admit that he didn't have a clue. Then again, _he _certainly hadn't been too receiving when she had come into the wizarding world, so Hermione didn't feel _too _badly.

"It's a train thing," she muttered vaguely. She didn't offer details because other things were pressing into her mind. She was trying to think of how they would get to their apartment and what they would do for food and what about their jobs? Monday was only a day away and obviously they would be expected to start right away, but what about times? And where was she supposed to go? Hermione groaned as Draco launched into another question regarding the status of people on the _"Metro." _

She hated having all the responsibility.

* * *

As soon as they stepped off the airplane, Hermione made a beeline for the luggage hall. She wanted to get fresh air as soon as possible, which wasn't so easy with Malfoy walking following her every step. As much as she was annoyed by his sudden shadow-like tendencies though, she supposed it was weird for him too. Having to be in such a big place with all sorts of people around him, and having only herself for support must have been slightly unnerving. Feeling the slightest bit sorry for him, Hermione continued to walk towards the hall. 

"Go to sign number eight," Hermione instructed, pointing towards the large number eight hanging from the ceiling. "There will be a conveyor belt with your trunk on it. Grab it when you see it and come back here."

"What about you? Where are you going?" Malfoy asked somewhat nervously.

"I'm going to get a trolley," Hermione said simply, and, before he could complain anymore she had hurried away towards where several trolleys were parked. It had been a long time since she had been at an airport alone and had some difficulty getting one for a bit until she got the hang of it again. When she had secured one though, she spotted Malfoy eagerly awaiting her return. He didn't even look out of place. He acted as if he knew what he was doing, although, Hermione could see in his eyes, he didn't have the faintest idea. She realized then, that she had a huge advantage over him.

"Put it here," she instructed, patting the trolley. In her eagerness for a trolley she hadn't even noticed that Malfoy had taken the liberty of retrieving her trunk as well and hoisted it onto the cart with ease alongside his own.

"Thanks," Hermione said dully but Malfoy was already perusing through one of the airport shops. "Malfoy we can do that later, there are loads of shops in Paris, but we need to find our home first," Hermione scolded lightly, eager to be away from the chaos of the airport. She looked at Malfoy, who was staring around in awe at everything, but when he saw Hermione looking, he tried to look bored and dissatisfied but Hermione knew he was stunned at how interesting the Muggle world really was. Hermione smiled. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad for him after all.

* * *

"_Une taxi si-vous-plait_," 

Hermione said, doing her best not to mangle the language. The man looked at her strangely, muttering under his breath about tourists. Hermione felt a blush creep to her face and quickly turned away, spotting another cab.

"Hey! Over here!" She yelled triumphantly, pointing towards an approaching taxi. Malfoy gave her a sideways look, his eyebrows cocked questioningly. "What?" She demanded, hauling her stuff over to the taxi that had slowed to the curb.

"Nothing," Malfoy murmured, looking away. Honestly though, he was amazed at how easily she had reverted back to the Muggle way of things with such confidence and ease. And for the first time, he was glad that he was stuck with Hermione.

At least she knew what she was doing.

**Don't forget to review:)**


	4. Number 12

**Number 12****

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**Disclaimer: Last time I check, my name wasn't J.K Rowling...**

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Clambering out of the taxi, Hermione paused to take in a breath of fresh air. The cramped taxi ride hadn't really helped to loosen her up—what with Malfoy pestering her with questions at every turn, and the taxi driver getting lost. It was a wonder that they had made it at all. Now that they were standing in front of the house though, Hermione found it easier to relax. At least _this _part was over. They were home.

Thanking the driver, Hermione handed him a wad of money and waited for him to open up the trunk. The drive had taken two hours, counting their unfortunate detour, and had cost a small fortune, but Hermione was too happy to care. They had made it to the house and now she felt certain that she would be able to go about getting things organized.

With the bags unloaded, the driver climbed back into his taxi and drove off, muttering unintelligibly, although Hermione doubted it was complimentary. To the driver's deep chagrin, Draco hadn't limited his questioning to Hermione and had insisted on cross-checking each of her answers with him, who had grown tired of Draco's persistence.

Hermione turned back to the house, trying in vain to lift her trunk. It had seemed to grow heavier with the weight of the day and any hope at getting it off the ground was dashed as Hermione's tired limbs crumbled under the weight.

"Past your bed time Granger?" Draco asked, smirking malevolently. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you get the trunks, and I'll open up the apartment," she delegated calmly, choosing to overlook his query.

Before heading over to their apartment, Hermione took a moment to look around at her surroundings. She was standing beside a huge circular fountain, glowing in the moonlight. Ahead of her were gardens and a huge roundabout alive with cars despite the late hour. The roundabout had been built around some kind of statue or monument and it looked as if there was a mansion in the park, because Hermione could make out a large drive way, leading up to what seemed to be a house. It was surrounded by large, impressive gates. Hermione noticed that it was open to the public though, because couples were walking hand in hand through the gates. The city was old but even in the darkness Hermione could tell that it was beautiful. It was as if the entire city was some rare antique, sitting elegantly among a flurry of activity.

Behind her, Hermione recognized the entrance to a huge shopping center filled with some late night shoppers. She smiled when she thought of how fantastic their location was (not that she would admit that to Draco), and couldn't wait to explore. She smiled when she thought of showing off to Malfoy about how she knew the city so well. But before she could think of anything else, Malfoy stepped behind her.

"Granger, stop looking around, and get into the apartment!" He scolded, wheezing with the weight of the trunks.

"Just calm down, where's the information sheet?" Hermione demanded, snapping back into the situation at hand. Draco riffled through his pocket and handed Hermione the crumpled up piece of paper. Scanning it quickly, Hermione took in the address and walked over to an apartment over some local shops. Using the key that had been supplied, Hermione unlocked the door and walked into the lobby.

The first thing they noticed was exactly how underdressed they both were compared to the other people in the lobby. It was obviously some upper-class, expensive apartment building. Trying to ignore all the stares from the people lounging around, Hermione walked up bravely to the desk.

"_Bonjour Mademoiselle_," the man behind the desk said. Hermione smiled tiredly.

"Err, hi. I'm Hermione Granger and this is Draco Malfoy. We're looking for apartment number twelve." The man smiled kindly, nodded at her.

"One moment, _si vous plait_," the man said in heavily-accented English. Quickly flicking through a book, he ticked a box, and looked up at Hermione. "Follow me."

Hermione turned to beckon Malfoy who was eyeing up a very pretty brunette in a slinky black dress and jewelry to match. She was speaking in French, with an elegant woman who Hermione assumed was her mother. By the looks of it though, the girl had either not noticed Malfoy, or was just ignoring him.

Hermione couldn't pretend Malfoy wasn't good looking, but she knew that the girl was plainly not interested in him because of his—or more like _both_—of their clothing. Everyone—even the people who were just lounging around—were significantly more adorned than she and looked to be the beacon of taste and elegance.

Malfoy had not bothered wearing Muggle-clothing and was wearing his robes, which worked to give him several odd stares. By the look on his face though, Hermione could only guess that he was making a mental note to stock up on clothes that would allow him to fit in a little better. Hermione had done a little better with a simple outfit of a jumper and jeans but it was obviously not dressy enough for this crowd.

Their clothing however was the last thing on Hermione's mind as she was too excited about the prospect of their apartment. If it was anything like the standards of the people in the lobby, it must be pretty good. Hermione had hoped that would be the case. McGonagall had known that the pairing would be tough and so Hermione assumed that she had done all she could to make sure that at least their accommodations were pleasant.

They reached a lift, and entered. The doorman clicked on floor twelve, the highest floor. The lift rumbled and slowly went upwards. Hermione looked over at Draco—she wasn't sure if he had ever been in a lift before. By the looks of it, he hadn't. He had pushed himself into the corner for some kind of support because there was nothing to hold on to, and looked as if he was going to have a panic attack at any minute. He was looking upwards, and she could hear him trying to breathe normally. Hermione sighed, knowing how scary it could seem to someone who had never been in a lift before. He was looking quite hopeless, but Hermione barely had time to pity the boy as before she could even give it a moment's thought, they had reached their floor.

There were a total of three doors; one door on the left side and two doors on the right. The three of them walked down the corridor, the doorman's keys clinking in his pocket, until they reached the very last door on the right. He took out his keys and pushed open the door for them.

"There is a key on ze table," the doorman said, smiling at Hermione, "_Bonne nuit_!"

And with that he was gone. Draco, stumbled into the apartment first, and Hermione could tell right away that he was quite satisfied.

"Not bad," he mused, dragging the trunks across the floor and laying them down by the couch. Hermione followed quickly, taking in the apartment all at once.

One entire wall was made of glass and Hermione could see straight through it to the magnificent view. Through it, the lights of the city illuminated the room which was fortunate as the apartment light's were rather dim. The apartment had a modern theme, and the room she had walked into consisted of the living room, dining room and kitchen all joined as one.

The living room had a large, black leather couch, and a matching black chair, which were surrounding a large, white fireplace that the chair and couch were circled around. Sprawled around the fire place were several white fur rugs, which Hermione noted, would make lovely places to read. There was a glass table next to the chair, which had a package on top of it. Hermione decided to explore first, and then open it.

The kitchen had a distinct 'black-and-white' theme, which was absolutely gorgeous. It included state of the art appliances and a large coffee machine for which Hermione was secretly grateful. The lights were hanging down above the huge central island, surrounded by a few bar chairs. Walking over towards the fridge, Hermione poked her head inside and realized that it was completely empty. She made a mental note to go shopping later.

Hermione spotted Malfoy out of the corner of her eye, pouring two glasses of scotch into glass cups. Hermione rolled her eyes. She should have know that he would have found the bar first.

"Here you go," Draco said brightly, holding out a cup to Hermione but she shook her head. She wasn't in the mood for drinking—and especially not with Malfoy. "It will make you sleep quicker," Draco pointed out, pushing the cup into Hermione's hands. She rolled her eyes. "Trust me." Draco continued solemnly and smiled when Hermione took a sip.

"What are you so happy about?" Hermione asked, coughing slightly as the liquid burned down her throat.

'This apartment—it's not so bad," Draco admitted, then, upon seeing Hermione's smug smile, he rushed to add, "nowhere near Malfoy Manner though."

"It's great," Hermione admitted, "and I haven't even seen the dining room yet!"

"Yeah, well, I'm going to check out my bedroom," Draco said, disappearing into one of the rooms.

Hermione watched him leave before walking towards the kitchen where there was a huge glass table. The table was already set for 6 people, with beautiful set of plates, cups and cutlery. It looked as if they were expecting guests from an aristocratic background.

"We have a problem," Draco announced loudly, walking out of the room. Hermione groaned.

"Let me just finish off my tour and then I'll fix it," Hermione muttered tiredly, opening one of the two doors, leading into a massive bathroom. It was completely made of stone and marble, and sunken into the ground, was a enormous hot tub, enough to fit five people. She opened the door to the shower and was shocked at its size. It was like its own little room. She couldn't find the shower head, but when she looked up towards the ceiling, she saw that it was hanging directly above her.

Hermione was just planning to search through the various cabinets when Malfoy's shout reverberated through the apartment.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Hermione yelled back, heading towards the bedroom where Malfoy had disappeared into. "What's the problem?"

"Look for yourself," Draco said, smirking slightly while pointing towards the room.

Hermione walked towards the door, peeking inside. It was absolutely huge, with an enormous balcony outside the glass walls. The room however, seemed antique and more magnificent, Hermione thought, than the more modern decorations elsewhere. There was an rustic chandelier in the middle of the room and a large dresser opposite the impressive four poster bed. The _only_ bed, Hermione noticed.

Fantastic.

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**A.N:** Hey guys! I've decided to put the author's note bit down here! Well, sorry for the long-ish wait, but the more reviews I get, the quicker the updates!!! Hehe - lol! Other than that...yeah, nothing really to say...but thanks SO much to the people who did review, it means so much to me :)  
x 


	5. Mr Riley

**Mr. Riley**

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me...**

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"Oh no, there is no way I am sleeping in the same bed as you—ever!" 

Hermione was furious. She hadn't anticipated this! There had to have been some kind of mistake. Had Hermione known she would be living and sharing a bed with Malfoy, she never would have gone along with the whole program.

"You're making it sound as if I planned this Granger," Draco replied coolly, leading her gently out of the room. Hermione groaned, seething at his cocky smirk. It was almost as if he was _enjoying _her pain. Draco turned, with the smirk still painted across his features. "_Bonne nuit, mon petit_."

And then he slammed the door.

Hermione was speechless. Not only had he just kicked her out of the only bedroom in the house, he had just spoken French!

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just take over the bedroom! You can't pull this crap with me! And where the hell did you learn French?" Hermione yelled, pounding on the heavy oaken door. From inside she thought she could hear the sounds of soft laughter, although she couldn't be sure. Hermione seethed. "Too bad you can't put a silencing charm on the door you worthless git because I'll be here all night!"

Hermione felt slightly bad, knowing that the neighbors could probably hear everything, but that didn't stop her. _He can't just kick me out like that! This is my apartment too_, Hermione thought to herself. It seemed unfair that he could just take the only bedroom—_we should at least be able to work out some sort of schedule!_

Hermione continued yelling and banging on the door, determined to get Malfoy to acknowledge her. She was so focused on getting in that she didn't even realize he had opened the door and narrowly avoided getting banged in the face by catching her flying fist. Hermione jumped at his unexpected touch, blushing under his steely eyes.

"Don't _ever _do that again," Draco demanded, his voice soft and icy. Hermione bit her lip.

"But I didn't even get a chance to present my case before you claimed it as your room!" Hermione argued, feeling somewhat annoyed at how childish she felt. She hated that Malfoy could reduce her to that.

"Listen Granger, you can either share the bed with me—Draco paused, grinning cockily—or you can get comfy on the couch. The point is, I'm not giving up this room."

"You know what," Hermione began with more confidence than she knew she had. "The bed looks big enough for two." Hermione paused, delighting in the stunned expression on Malfoy's face. She knew he hadn't expected her to stand up to him, but now that she had, he was the one who looked slightly discomfited.

"As you wish," Malfoy said finally, strolling from the room.

Hermione bit her lip, she had rather hoped Malfoy would be so disgusted by her offer, that he would then sleep on the couch, but he hadn't, and she couldn't seriously sleep in the same bed as..._him_?!

Finally snapping under the pressure, Hermione ran from the room. Malfoy softly chuckled, and slammed the door shut. Sighing, Hermione made her way over to the couch...it couldn't be that uncomfortable. Closing her eyes, she immediately fell asleep, the long day had taken it's toll on her.

* * *

Hermione was blindfolded. 

Despite the blindfold however, Hermione could feel a cool breeze sweeping over her face, sending shivers racing up and down her limbs. She felt as if she were floating, heading upwards, and panic coursed through her body until someone's arm wrapped around her waist. Exhaling slowly, Hermione smiled. She felt safe—as if nothing could harm her while she was wrapped in the mystery arms.

"It's okay Hermione, follow me," a voice whispered huskily into her ear.

Pushing her slightly, the boy guided Hermione down a path that only he could see. She was scared, knowing that she was at some high elevation and possibly in somewhat of peril. It was eerily quiet and the only sound Hermione could make out was their footsteps walking over the ground.

"Put your hands forward," the voice commanded and then, in a gentler tone, "I won't let you fall."

Hermione reached out, blindly feeling for the railing.

"I'm going to take off the blindfold now," the boy breathed and Hermione sucked in a breath.

"Don't let go of me," she whispered unnecessarily as the mystery boy undid the knot of the blindfold, gently pulling it away.

'Open your eyes!'

Hermione gasped, staring at the scene spread out before her. They were standing overlooking the city, illuminated by the snow and the full moon. Immediately Hermione realized she was on the highest floor of the Eiffel Tower and that she was all alone save for the mysterious stranger holding her close. Turning around, Hermione smiled at the boy, her face alight with adoration.

"Oh Draco, this is perfect," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

'Hermione…I want you to have this.' Draco felt in his pocket, looking for the…

* * *

Hermione bolted awake, all her senses buzzing with action. Had she just had a dream about _Draco Malfoy_? The thought alone was enough to incite shivers of horror to race up and down her spine. Hopping out of bed, Hermione made her way to the balcony where she hoped she would be able to go over what had just happened. Unfortunately, Hermione had little time to analyze the dream as the second she stepped outside a cheerful voice called out to her. 

"Good-morning!"

Startled, Hermione squealed and looked at the man on the balcony next to her.

"Beautiful view, isn't it? I went here once, on holiday and when I went back home to England, I couldn't push the image of this out of my head," he said, waving his arms around. He had a posh English accent, and was already wearing a suit. He looked quite old, and had a one of those twirly mustaches. Hermione was caught with the strange reminder of Dumbledore only smaller and as a Muggle. There was something, likable, and approachable about him, so Hermione smiled sweetly and let him continue "Eventually I just decided to come back, and I've been here ever since!" He chuckled, "so you're the new couple staying here, are you?"

"Well, I would say we're a couple—we're hardly even friends—but yes, there are two of us staying here," Hermione clarified awkwardly. She didn't know how much to explain to the man and felt she had already crossed some of the information boundaries.

"That explains the yelling then," he said, smiling knowingly at her. Hermione blushed but felt better when he shrugged, as if it was really no matter. "Ah, _mademoiselle_, we all have our little ups and downs," he offered kindly. Hermione blushed.

"I am dreadfully sorry though—it really isn't like me at all!" The man shrugged.

"Like I said, we all have our ups and downs." Laughing again, he looked at his watch. "Breakfast time," he chuckled jovially, "I know a lovely bakery, not far away, care to join me?" He asked, turning to face Hermione again who paused only a moment before nodding. Normally, she would never have accepted so easily, especially from someone she had just met, but the whole thing about the project was learning how to live on your own, in the city. She was free and could do as she pleased. Not to mention the fact that there was no food in the apartment and she was famished.

"Let me just get dressed," Hermione said, gesturing towards the bedroom. The man nodded.

"Of course—and don't worry about money, it's on me today!" Hermione paused.

"Are you sure it's not problem?"

"I'm _positive_—it's not a problem for anyone living in any of these apartments!" he laughed. "We'll meet in the lobby in twenty minutes then?"

"Of course!" Hermione said quickly, dashing into her room. She smiled.

_At least I have one friend now_.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Hermione stood waiting in the lobby. 

It was completely empty except for the receptionist, who smiled at her. She hadn't bothered washing her hair, so she had tied it into a tight bun, trying to look as sophisticated as possible. She wore jeans, and a blazer, with a white blouse underneath—a definite improvement from her earlier wardrobe, although Hermione still felt it lacked a certain regality. She wanted to try and impress her neighbor.

"You ready?" The man asked, and Hermione stood up, startled by his sudden presence. "I'm dreadfully sorry, but I just realized that I never got to ask you what your name is!" Hermione smiled.

"Hermione Granger," she offered, staring at him. He smiled.

"Antoine Riley," he shook Hermione's hand in a gentlemanly manner, "pleased to meet you Miss Granger."

"Likewise Mr. Riley," she beamed. She had forgotten how pleasant the Muggle world was. No wizard or witch had ever greeted Hermione like this, and she preferred the Muggle way.

And with a comforting smile, they were off.

* * *

Hermione and Antoine had been walking for quite a while when they turned into an alleyway and caught sight of a tiny corner bakery, just a few shops ahead. 

"It has the best things ever!" Mr. Riley gushed, "It's like a patisserie, _et une boloungerie_ in one!"

"I hope so, I'm starving!" Hermione confided, trying to suppress the low growling of her stomach. Antoine laughed, continuing towards the bakery. Already Hermione could smell the contents, delighting in the warmth emanating from the tiny store. Her stomach growled again.

Roaring with laughter, they both entered.

* * *

Opening the door to the apartment, Hermione called goodbye to Mr. Riley and thanked him once more for taking her out to breakfast. He had proved to be quite the neighbor—not only had he bought her something to eat, but he had made sure she had several bags to take back to the apartment as well. Then, on their way back, he had offered to tutor Hermione in French should she ever want to learn. So, confident that she had made a lasting friend, Hermione walked back to her apartment, her hands were full of bags containing all sorts of delicious French food that she couldn't wait to tuck into. 

Silently walking inside, so as not to disturb Draco, Hermione was surprised to see him sitting on the couch, his back facing her.

Spinning around, he jumped up.

"Hermione!" He said, breathing out slowly. He almost looked tense, as if he had actually been worried about her. "What were you doing? Don't you ever do that again!" He yelled petulantly, sounding like an angry child. Hermione couldn't help but smile, feeling slightly guilty at the same time.

"Sorry Draco," she apologized lamely, "I got breakfast though!" she added chirpily. Draco barely batted an eye at this information.

"Have you seen this?" He demanded, waving a package in front of her face. "It's from Hogwarts."

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**A/N: Hey, I've decided to update, every Saturday night/Sunday, starting from this week! I just want to say, that it means so much to me when you guys review, and I wanna say thanks to the following people...(and sorry if I spelt it wrong!)**

**Draco Lover, jk rowling the 2nd, pink-levicorpus, purplekitten7, blacklepperd. chavalicious, riley parker mysweetkisses, Bianca, Blair21, Kindali Sidera, cutiexoxo, Portugese Chicka, Silidons, Dakota Malfoy, spacesareoverrated, PanicatmyFallSundayRomance, Nora, adambrodylover, JunSui, grace, Ski000girl, kat6528. Kat, outkasthpfanatic, Abyssus abyssum invocat, lucia **

I just remembered were I got the name 'Mr. _Riley_' from! Hehe

**Thanks sososososososooooo much!!! You guys mean the world to me :-) Lol!**

**Other than that...hmmm, not much to say! Byeee! x and pleeease don't forget to review, it makes me soooo happy :D**

**lol x!**


	6. Mandela Rai

**Mandela Rai**

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**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling...daaamn!**

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"Oh, I remember seeing that yesterday," Hermione admitted, sitting down on the couch and taking 2 croissants out of the bag, offering one to Malfoy. Taking it with only a short nod of thanks, he ripped open the parcel.

Picking up the letter, addressed to the both of them, Hermione read aloud,

"_Dear. Mr. Malfoy and Miss. Granger,_

_Congratulations on completing the first task, arriving at your destination safely! While you are in Paris, you will have to complete several other tasks, or assignments, in order to get a good grade._

_These assignments are:_

_Buy a digital Muggle camera, and take photo's as evidence as you completing your assignments. One or both of you must be in the picture (you must also get the photo's developed at a Muggle store at the end of the 3 weeks)_

_When returning home to Hogwarts, you must arrange your own transportation. (Includes booking/buying tickets, getting to the airport, how to get to King's Cross etc...)_

_Correspond with friends via Muggle Postal services (addresses enclosed)_

_Go to the Eiffel tower and the Louvre, do not use taxis, and try to ask strangers for directions. _

_Use a laptop to locate 5 restaurants in Paris, and dine there. _

_Go to a DIY store and buy some kind of furniture (e.g. table, closet…etc) buy some paint, and build it. _

_Film you, and your partner having a conversation in French._

_Do some sort of cultural music project in which you go outdoors or another place where you would be able to find cultural music playing, and stay there to listen._

_Go to see a French movie, and make 5 points about it in French._

_Invite several friends round for a formal, dinner party. _

_In this package, you will also receive a 'converter' which will allow you to exchange Wizard money to Euros, incase you will ever need it, but remember that the converter is checked, to see how much extra money is used, this will effect your grade. There is also a credit card (the code is 2993), which has the 500 euros in it. The laptop has been placed in the bedroom, Miss. Granger should be able to explain its uses, and there is also an internet connection. If you should ever run into any danger or problems, we will be notified magically. Other than that, the rules are pretty simple._

_No magic allowed for 3 weeks._

_And as extra note, you will both have jobs._

_Miss. Granger is sectary for Mr. Riley, head of Bols Bank. (4, Foisque Street)_

_Monday – Friday, 10:30am-4:30_

_Saturday – 10:30-3:30_

_Mr. Malfoy, you will be working in the Saks Fifth Avenue department store, under men's clothing section._

_Monday-Friday 10:15-4:40_

_Saturday-9:45-3:30_

_Your earnings from your job will be wired directly to your account._

_Each of you will also keep a diary. It is not mandatory to write in them everyday, but as often as possible would be better, however, we will not be grading them. They are just as memory._

_Good luck! And enjoy,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Prof. M. McGonagall._"

Hermione, now finished reading, looked in the package for the list of addresses, credit card converter, and diary.

Picking up the diary, she flicked it open. It was pink, for a girl, and just had lines inside. It wasn't amazing, but it had a cute little lock with a key, on a chain, which was obviously for a necklace. Placing it round her neck, she looked for the other things.

Malfoy was holding the credit card, with an odd expression on his face. Placing it back on the table, he had a look at his own diary.

Hermione got a hold of the address list, and started flicking through it. Laughing, she pointed out that Neville and Pansy had been partnered up. Malfoy, smirking, leaned over Hermione's shoulder to read the list. Hermione usually hated it when people looked over her shoulder, but strangely, she didn't seem to mind Malfoy doing so.

Examining the list and items again, the two of them sat down on the couch.

"So, what you think of the assignments?" Hermione asked, trying to start a conversation to break the awkward silence that had settled between them.

"Some seem alright," Draco shrugged, acting like he didn't really care.

Scanning the list again, Hermione nodded her head.

"Looks like it should be a good time," she said with a smile in an attempt to be friendly.

"It better be," Malfoy muttered, relaxing back onto the couch, his arms spread out over the top.

'Ever been to Paris?' she asked him, turning to face him.

"Yes, with my mother," he drawled out, his voice laced with irritation as if Hermione was supposed to know this about him.

Giving a half smile, she nodded.

"Is there anything you want, or need to do today?" she asked him.

"No, not really," Malfoy snapped, then, upon catching the hopeful gleam in Hermione's eye, he returned the sentiment. "Do you?"

"Well, maybe we should go get the camera and buy some food, the fridge is empty, and this," Hermione pointed towards the pile of food she had just bought, "won't last forever."

"Fine with me."

"Oh, and I don't feel like cooking, so maybe you want to go out for dinner?" Hermione ventured, trying to make her tone seem as neutral as possible. She didn't want it to sound like she was asking him out on a date or anything.

"Well I suppose I could cook—but going out sounds good too," Draco agreed, smiling for the first time that morning. He seemed suddenly happy, and interested. "Last time I was here, I went to this one place with my mother—it was kind of a club thing. Maybe we could go there!"

Hermione looked at him, slightly confused. Was Malfoy sounding—_enthusiastic_?

"Keep in mind that we don't have a lot of money," Hermione reasoned skeptically. Anywhere that Malfoy and his mother had gone was probably a little out of their budget. Laughing, Malfoy pulled out a wad of money from one of his pockets.

"I told my father what was going on, and he gave me some extra money"

Hermione, trying not to look disapproving, merely tried to over look the fact that technically, they were cheating.

Malfoy, knowing what Hermione thought of this, merely smirked.

_I love being rich!_ He thought brightly to himself. If he was going to be stuck as a Muggle for three weeks, there was no way he was doing it modestly.

_He thinks he so rich, _Hermione sighed to herself, wondering what it would be like to have no restrictions and all the money one could possibly imagine at your fingertips.

"So you want to get ready?" Hermione asked, snapping out of her reveries. Malfoy looked as though he too had been caught in the middle of a thought, but nodded. "Alright then, we should be off." Malfoy nodded his agreement, but neither teenager moved.

Both were quite comfortable on the couch, watching the city wake up outside the huge glass windows. Twenty quick minutes passed and not a word was spoken. It was a comfortable silence, both in a conversation with themselves, thinking of the three weeks that still needed to pass by. It was pleasant, just sitting there, having a reason to remain silent, there was no pressure to try and talk to one another.

Slowly, before either of them could process it, they leaned into each other. Hermione felt her head slide onto Malfoy's shoulder, but before she could fully allow herself to relax into his chest, she jumped up, like she had just received a shock from him. Blushing slightly as he rose next to her, he walked past her, making sure to brush past her side, and grinned.

'I'm gonna get changed' he murmured.

Hermione just stood still, thinking about what the hell had just happened.

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_So, this is day one then. Well, it's about 6:45pm now, and Malfoy is taking a shower, so he can quote: '_Look good for dinner'_, I don't know who he's trying to impress…._

_We went out today, into the city. It was so much fun, and we didn't even get to see most of it! _

_Well anyway, Malfoy was acting rather odd today. Like a very moody teenager. In the morning, when we left the house, he was pleasant, nice to talk to. But as soon as we got outside the building, he acted like a total prat, trying his very best to disturb the Muggles, and myself. He was totally doing it on purpose, and when I asked him to stop, he got even more annoyed. But a few minutes later, when we arrived at this camera shop we found, he acted genuinely interested in everything. He kept asking questions, and the man behind the counter was positively beaming that someone had such a keen interest in photography. He was so polite, and such a gentleman…really, I would never have suspected it! But then…._

Hermione paused for a moment, groaning as she recalled what had happened. Then, putting the pen back to the paper, she continued.

* * *

…_she can get so frustrating! She kept talking and talking about 'Paris this…' and 'Paris that…' I honestly don't give a shit! Seriously, I don't know how Potter and Weasley stick that woman out (Although, I'd rather have a know-it-all, than Pansy)._ _The cameras were pretty cool though—I can't believe Muggles can honestly think of that kind of stuff without magic! It's insane…but, anyway, after the camera thing, she wanted to take pictures of everything!!! Every 5 meters we would have to stop, and, quote "Oh, have to remember this!" it's so annoying!_

_I cannot wait to get out of here._

_Well, anyway, we started walking home, and we didn't speak to each other. Although she is a Mudblood, I'd rather have a normal conversation, than have none at all. I don't what it was but I felt kind of guilty. I suppose she just wanted to remember everything, maybe I shouldn't have shouted at her…._

_Well, she thinks I'm taking a shower; we're going out for dinner. It's that place I went to when I went here with mother. Mandela Rai or something? Hopefully I'll be able to remember where it is…._

_I don't even know why I'm writing in this stupid diary anyway. It has to be the stupidest idea McGonagall has had in her life, save for this stupid experiment. _

_Paris is pretty cool though._

* * *

Despite it being a Muggle place, many sophisticated Wizards often went to Mandela Rai, explaining why Malfoy and his mother had dined there. It was very elegant, and classy, much to Hermione's liking.

"I am so full!" Hermione groaned, leaning back with a silly smile on her face.

Raising his eyebrow, Malfoy nodded disapprovingly. This was a chic club, and if his parents were around, they would have been furious for such rudeness. She had obviously not grown up the way he did. _But then_, he thought, _nobody really has_.

They were both not really speaking to each other, so dinner had been a quite event. Hermione, who had only spoken to Draco once in the apartment (asking him what kind of clothing to wear), was now dressed in a cute, black dress, something similar to what the girl was wearing in the lobby, but probably less expensive.

Malfoy was wearing a suit, and Hermione noticed he was getting a few more looks from the girls, than before.

Once they had arrived, they had a normal conversation, and it was _almost_ as if there had never been any feud between them earlier, but then Hermione insisted they order their food in French, to which Malfoy down right refused. Having a heated argument, in hushed tones, it resulted in Hermione speaking French, and Malfoy not.

Hermione looked over to the dance floor. Although Malfoy had mentioned it being a 'club', it was slightly more—_formal_—than the kind of clubs she went to during the holidays. People didn't really let go, and it was more ballroom, than just dancing. Hermione watched the people who looked very graceful, swishing and swirling about on the dance floor. Malfoy, who was watching her look at the dancers, merely sighed. He had hated taking ballroom dancing for four years, but his mother had heartily insisted. Any proper gentleman knew how to dance. _If she has any notions of _me _taking her to dance, she's sorely mistaken_, Malfoy thought to himself, remembering his solemn promise never to dance unless absolutely necessary.

"_Bonjour madam_," Hermione and Draco both jumped slightly at the unexpected voice at Hermione's side.

It was a man, who was probably a little older than Malfoy. He was very good looking, and Hermione had absolutely no idea why on earth he was speaking to her.

"Would you like to dance?"

Sucking in her breath, Hermione stared wide-eyed at him, as if the man was slightly insane. No one asked her to dance—ever! Even during the Yule ball several years earlier she had practically had to beg Krum to dance with her!

Still smiling, the man offered his hand, which Hermione took.

Malfoy, who was watching everything now stood abruptly, with a loud scraping of his chair.

"Now hold up there," he began heatedly, throwing his napkin onto the table.

The man eyed Malfoy, gave a dismissive nod, and continued walking away with Hermione on his arm. Malfoy, however, was having none of that. It was one thing to despise the girl sitting next to you, but it was quite another when someone _assumed _that she was there for the taking. It had nothing to do with feelings for Granger, (at least that's what Draco seemed determined to tell himself) it was about pride.

"I believe she's with me," Draco shot in a voice learned from his father. It was etched in malice and entirely persuasive, but that didn't seem to stop the man. Storming over to them, Malfoy grabbed Hermione's other arm, pulling her away from the man and positioning her behind him as if he were her bodyguard.

The man stood in front of Malfoy, his eyes narrowing. Despite being younger, Malfoy had a better physique, and was the taller of the two.

"Would you please leave _us_ alone?" the man asked in a thick French accent. Hermione could tell he was getting pretty pissed off, and that if Malfoy didn't go away soon, there might be some real trouble. Still, she couldn't bring herself to step in.

"No! She's with me!"

Hermione looked away, she didn't want to have to _choose_ who she would stay with. Unfortunately, Hermione really had no choice.

The man walked around Malfoy, grabbed Hermione's arm as if she were a desired rag doll, and proceeded to walk to the dance floor.

Malfoy didn't have to say anything; he just grabbed the man's arm, and flung him around. Again, they were facing each other, but this time Malfoy wasted no time punching him—_hard_.

The man cowered, and there were uproars in the crowd. Before Hermione could scold Malfoy, or help the man, Malfoy took her arm, and strode out of the restaurant, throwing some money on to their table.

Quickly opening the door, they walked outside, the cold air hitting them sharply. It was like they had suddenly awoken from a day dream, and made them realize what had just happened.

"Malfoy, I—," Hermione began softly.

"Look, just, don't say anything ok! I know you're angry, but just shut up for one minute!" Draco cut in, his voice tired and exasperated.

"No, Malfoy—I just," Hermione continued meekly.

Sighing dramatically, he stopped to face her.

"Fine, let's hear it then. How long are you gonna shout at me for?" He asked, looking down at his watch for extra effect.

"Well you kind of saved me," she admitted bashfully, glancing at her hands.

Malfoy, who was not really expecting that, gave her a puzzled look.

"Well," she said, blushing and looking at her feet. "I can't really dance."

Malfoy smiled, but before he could say anything he was met with a distinctive _click. _He groaned.

Damn camera.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guyys! Hows you? Well...I've decided to update _sometime during the weekend_ instead of just Sunday! So remember to keep checking for updates! Had a really bad week...could do with some reviews to cheer me up...pleeease! Lol, well thanks to everyone who did, it means the world to me :-)**

**x  
mina1011**


	7. Saks Fifth Avenue

**Saks Fifth Avenue**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize**

* * *

Together, Hermione and Draco walked through the darkened streets back to their apartment. It had been a long day for the both of them and despite barely having started their evening; both found it was time to return home. They did, after all, have their jobs to think about the next morning, as Hermione had conveniently pointed out. 

Malfoy's response had been low, complaining and incoherent—though Hermione had taken no pains in trying to figure out what it was. She hardly doubted it was complimentary.

When Hermione had first taken the picture, Malfoy seemed pissed, complaining loudly about lights and cameras and blasted photographers, but after a while, Hermione could tell the anger was more for show rather than actual ire. He _had _wanted to delete it but Hermione flat out refused, stating that it was the only picture where Draco was actually smiling and should therefore be documented in history.

"Oh Malfoy, look!" Hermione squealed suddenly, pointing towards one of the side shops. It was dark with abandonment but it was clear what it was. "A movie rental!"

Draco frowned slightly.

"A what?" He demanded, causing Hermione to smile. He probably didn't even know what a TV was, let alone a movie.

"It's for a television. You know that black boxy thing in the apartment that shows pictures on it? Well you can put one of those in and it will show a specific movie," Hermione explained quickly, pressing her face up against the glass in an attempt to see into the store.

There were several newer movies but the majority of them looked like older classics and Hermione was instantly excited, making a mental bookmark of the location so she could return when it was open.

"Movie?" Draco was asking, but Hermione ignored him, her eyes scanning quickly over the selection of titles. Even he seemed distracted though and probably would have ignored her response anyway.

After a while, Hermione pulled away, glad that she had found a form of entertainment that was so close to their apartment. After a long week at work she would probably be dying for an hour and a half of relaxation—even if it was just watching a movie. Oftentimes, due to school, she missed out on a lot of the newer releases popular in the Muggle world, and although she wouldn't give up her time at Hogwarts for anything, she did like to be somewhat informed on pop culture in the Muggle world.

"So what are we going to do with that?" Draco wondered, rushing to catch up with Hermione who was already a half a block away.

"The movie store?" Hermione asked, too caught up in her own thoughts to fully understand what Draco was asking. He nodded. "Later we can rent a movie and I'll show you how it works." Hermione promised and Draco seemed placated.

Well, for a minute at least.

"So what are we doing tomorrow?" He wanted to know, running his hand through his hair. Hermione eyed him curiously.

"We're going to work—our _own _jobs. And don't even think about blowing it off because I'll know and you'll be fired. And I do _not _want to be living on one salary—even if mine is rather impressive," Hermione instructed, a light smile falling across her face. Draco nodded, taking this in silently before a petulant pout marred his features.

"Wait—you know how much you're getting paid?" He demanded. Hermione shrugged.

"I can make a guess."

"Well what about me?" Draco snapped impatiently, eliciting a confused glance from Hermione.

"What about you?"

"Well, can you _guess _how much _I'm _going to be making?" Hermione laughed out loud.

"I can guess," she began slowly. It wasn't so much a question of whether or not she _could _guess, but more of whether or not she _should _guess. She knew he would probably pitch a fit if she told him that she thought she'd be making more than him. And while the look on his face was probably incentive enough to tell him, the thought of having to deal with a cranky Draco was all that she needed to stay quiet.

"_Well_?" Draco pressed, raising his eyebrows at Hermione who merely shrugged.

"Well, why don't we just wait and see what happens?" She suggested, turning into the lobby of their apartment complex.

Draco groaned.

* * *

Day 1.

Hermione woke up to the loud screech of her alarm clock.

"_Shit_!"

Hermione jumped up, tossing back the blanket that Draco had pulled over her the previous evening. It had been the least he could do when, after insisting Hermione show him the television, he had somehow conned her into sleeping on the couch while he took the bed.

The alarm had been set for ten, so she had half an hour to take a shower, get dressed and have breakfast before racing to work. Grabbing the clothes she had taken time to lay out the night before, Hermione raced into the bathroom to change.

Unfortunately, changing was harder than Hermione remembered.

At Hogwarts if she got too hot she simply took off her sweater or robe and if she was cold it went back on. Having to wear the robes hadn't helped any either since people rarely saw the ensemble underneath. Now however, as Hermione struggled to understand the weather forecast, she wondered whether what she had picked out was appropriate. It was a simple blouse and sleek black trousers and Hermione thought it looked very appropriate for the working, upper-class Muggle she was supposed to be.

Hermione had just stepped out of the bathroom and was preparing to grab a muffin for breakfast when she suddenly remembered her blond counterpart who she had yet to hear from.

"Malfoy!" She cried, running into the room and shaking him awake. He groaned.

"What the—what are you doing Granger?" He snapped, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Hermione groaned.

"It's ten seventeen—you have three minutes to get ready!" She pointed out, somewhat less-sympathetic than before.

Thankfully however, that realization worked to wake Draco up and he bounded from bed.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" He demanded, scrambling toward the closet and pulling out the first outfit he got his hands on. Hermione watched the scene with a half smile on her face. She was so used to seeing him calm and put together that to see him stumbling around like this was quite funny.

Sending a death glare at Hermione, Draco raced past her and into the bathroom.

Undeterred, Hermione checked her reflection one last time and decided to let Malfoy find his own way to work.

* * *

"Damn, damn, damn!" The redheaded girl cursed, rocketing into the room, her coat sweeping off her as she lunged towards the chair opposite Hermione. She pulled a compact from her purse and fixed her hair before snapping it shut and exhaling. Quickly looking at her watch, she frowned, whispering something about being ten minutes late. 

She yelped as she saw Hermione.

"You frightened me there!" She said, her hand fluttering over her heart. She inhaled, smiling prettily before extending her hand. "You're the new sectary, aren't you?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, not completely sure what to make of the girl. She grinned encouragingly.

"We're going to have so much fun!"

"No you're not young lady," a man's voice came from behind. Hermione and the girl whirled around to face and older man. He wore a suit, and looked very official. "You two are going to be working very hard, and if I have any complaints about either of you, you'll be out," he snarled, waving his hand towards the window. Hermione had the strangest thought of Snape.

"Yeah, yeah Tomlinson," the girl said, waving her hand dismissively. "Lighten up, will you?"

"Don't you dare speak to me like that Marie! Your father will here about this!" He warned although even Hermione could tell the threat was weak. The redhead—Marie—rolled her eyes.

"Go ahead and fire me, I don't want to be here!" She reminded him, smoothing down her hair. With a huff, the man left the room, and Marie turned to Hermione, smiling sweetly. Hermione just stared, too stunned, and somewhat confused about what had just happened.

"I'm Marie by the way," she said brightly, extending her hand, which Hermione took hesitantly. "We're going to be working together, and don't worry about Tom, he's just angry my dad got me in this place."

Hermione frowned as Marie continued.

"It's just that I'm quite young—I actually dropped out of school, I found it wasn't for me," she explained airily as if it were of little consequence. "Anyway, my dad's really smart and important over here, so he didn't want me _disgracing the family name_," she paused, obviously mimicking her father, "so he got me a job here! Not that I actually do any real work or anything," she grinned, picking up some papers, and tossing them around.

"To be honest, I have no idea what a sectary even does!"

Hermione, who was not sure what to think of all this, merely stood there silently.

She only hoped Draco was having worse luck.

* * *

"Yeah, sorry," Malfoy drawled, as he wandered into work a good two hours late. 

He had woken up late and decided it would only hurt himself if he didn't take time for a nice long shower and a full breakfast. Then, when he had noticed that Hermione had already left, well, that had posed a world of complications. Still, Draco figured he wouldn't bore the man behind the counter with that story.

The man was middle aged and slightly balding, although you would never know to look at him. He had carefully combed the little black hair he had left so that it covered the bald spot, although it was still visible when he turned his head at a certain angle. Which was, coincidentally, the same angle he had his head turned at now. Malfoy fought the urge to laugh out loud.

The man, whose nametag read "Jacque" finished up with a customer and then turned to Draco, pulling him a bit too roughly through a door that read "Personnel Only". Draco groaned.

This couldn't be good.

Sure enough, as soon as they had closed the door behind them, Jacque turned to Malfoy, his thin mustache trembling angrily.

"This is unacceptable! How dare you show up late—and on your first day!" Taking a few deep breaths the man paused to look Malfoy up and down.

Tutting slightly, he led him further into the room, his face still bright red.

"Choose one of these suits for your uniform," he directed, pointing towards a slim selection of similar-looking outfits that resembled the same one worn by the man. Draco raised an eyebrow. If this man thought he would wear anything like _that _he was sorely mistaken.

"I'm not wearing Mug—I mean, what's wrong with what I'm wearing now?" Draco demanded, glancing down at his own outfit. It wasn't as if he had worn his school robes—as if he would be caught dead in them outside of school—but his outfit definitely wasn't quite Muggle-friendly either, though his father surely would have been proud.

"Hah!" Jacque snorted, rolling his eyes. Then, turning back to Draco he snarled, "Choose one right now and don't even think of coming to work late again tomorrow or else you won't be coming back ever again!"

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy flicked through one of the racks, and picked up a particularly expensive looking suit.

"Ah yes, Armani Winter collection," the man said approvingly as if this somehow made up for Draco's earlier behavior. He started to leave so Draco could change but turned back quickly. "Oh, and put this on," he directed, tossing a nametag that read "Pierre" at Draco who sighed.

* * *

"So, here's the office," Marie said brightly, shoving Hermione into a chair. She was sitting in front of large desk with a new computer, a telephone, and the other usual office items. Opposite her, Marie had her own desk, with a computer, and exactly the same things Hermione had only Hermione could help noticing that it was a bit more personalized than her own. Her computer was bright pink, her phone was covered in Leopard fur print and the printer was covered in Polka Dots. It looked to Hermione like a two year old had decorated as opposed to a grown woman. 

Hermione paused, looking around. Marie had explained everything—well, everything _important _as she described it—but Hermione still felt as if she were missing something.

Oh yeah, her objective.

"So, what do we do?" Hermione asked, trying her best not to sound impatient. She had spent years trying to avoid the reputation of a good-goody she had earned at school, and she didn't want to earn it at work where no one knew her at all. Marie shrugged.

"I already told you! Nothing!" She squeaked happily as if this was the best part. Hermione bit her lip.

"Doesn't that get a little boring?" She wondered slowly, trying to make things as simple as she could for the girl who merely smiled as if it was Hermione and not herself who was in need of help.

"Well of course—I just meant that we don't do that much in the _office_. We're going to leave in like twenty minutes though—you just have to make sure Mr. Riley sees you, and then we can go!"

Swallowing, Hermione perceived this as _skiving,_ something that she wasn't very fond of. She was here to work, get some experience, not mess around all day, and not do anything worthwhile.

But then again, maybe she would get something out of this.

* * *

Checking his reflection in the mirror, and smirking, Malfoy left the room, and walked over to the counter where Jacque was standing. 

"Ah, Pierre, much better," he said, his voice accented heavily as if trying to pretend he really was French, when minutes ago, he had been shouting at Malfoy in a perfect English accent.

"_Oui_ Jacque," Malfoy said, in the most foreign-accented tone he could come out with.

"Your job is to assist, personalize, and help people with what they want to buy," Jacques instructed, raising a critical eyebrow. Malfoy groaned.

"Great." The last thing Malfoy wanted to do was wait on other people hand and foot.

"Some simple tips," he whispered into Malfoy's ear, "go for people who are rich and have no clue what they're doing. And there are plenty of younger girls who come in too and if you're lucky you might be able to get something out of that." He winked secretively and Malfoy had to hold back a gag.

Was this man honestly giving _him _dating advice? It was laughable. And what exactly was he implying? Was this "Jacques" character trying to pick _him _up?

"And tip number three—we pay on commission. So if I were you I would stop lollygagging around and get to work." All camaraderie was lost from the man's tone as he said the last part.

"But—,"

"Welcome to Saks."

And with that he shoved him towards to older ladies, covered in brand names, sporting expensive-looking Louis Vuitton bags.

* * *

"Good morning Mr. Riley!" Marie cooed, giving Mr. Riley a Starbucks mug and a brownie. 

"Ah, Marie, and Miss. Granger, good morning to you too," Mr. Riley said, amused at the cowering Hermione, and the eccentric Marie. He wondered how long she would be able to cope with that crazy girl.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" Hermione wondered sweetly.

"No, nothing at all my dear," he said as Marie stood behind him, mimicking his exact words. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my office and you two should get to work." He chuckled to himself. As if he didn't know that Marie snuck out everyday.

"He says exactly the same everyday!" Marie giggled as soon as he had disappeared into his office. Then, smiling at Hermione, she said, "Well, I guess we should go now!"

Grabbing her coat, and Hermione's hand, she dragged a protesting Hermione out of the office, and into the streets of Paris.

"So, where do you want to go?" Marie asked, smiling at Hermione. "There are a few shops around this building, but not as many as the high street." Looking around, Hermione smiled uncertainly.

"Well, I can't really afford any of these things," she said awkwardly, thinking of the modest amount Hogwarts had provided. Marie just laughed however.

"Oh you don't need to buy it silly! It's on me!"

She sounded like such a spoiled little girl—almost like Pansy—but, she was nice. However dim and superficial she seemed, she was didn't mean it, and she was like the kind of girl who you could forgive anything for—which, Hermione figured, was probably why she managed to get a job. Well, that and the help of her father….

"Oh, this place is good!" Marie squealed, tugging Hermione into a large building. Hermione looked up and her mouth dropped in protest but no words came out. She cringed, recognizing the label.

Saks Fifth Avenue.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, sorry I didn't update sooner, but as you have probably noticed, this chapter is a lot longer then usual, so me (and my beta!) worked a lot harder :-)  
Just wanna add, to all those people who did review, my week was really really awesome thanks to you guys::round of applause:: Sooo...merci beacoup! Lol, cya again next week! And don't forget to review today, hehe!  
x**


	8. Oh Look

**Oh Look**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't anything blah blah...you know the drill by now!**

* * *

"Women's clothing is on floor three," Marie said easily, breezing past the directory as if she had no need for it. _She probably doesn't, _Hermione thought to herself, praying that she wouldn't run into Malfoy as Marie tugged her along. 

The pair stepped into the elevator and Hermione found herself wishing that it would never open, for she had a pretty good idea what would happen if it did. Malfoy would inevitably be a fixture in their desired department and unless he had skived work (which Hermione thoroughly hoped he had) they would run into him for sure.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Hermione groaned to herself as a shock of blonde hair came into view. Thinking swiftly, Hermione ducked behind the closest clothing rack and hoped that Marie wouldn't notice her absence as she pranced up and down the aisles, looking for things to wear.

At the sound of the elevator, Malfoy glanced up from the desk and caught sight of a slim red-head humming to herself while perusing the clothes. Unlike some of the customers, she seemed to know exactly what she wanted and was having no trouble picking and discarding items appropriately. Malfoy was just about to return to his work—since she obviously didn't need much help—when he felt someone hovering close.

"Remember rule number two," Jacques whispered icily, shoving Malfoy towards the girl. Draco stumbled slightly but continued on towards the girl, pausing only once to throw a death glare back over his shoulder at Jacques who was grinning stupidly. God he hated him already.

"Hi! I'm Marie," the redhead said loudly, catching Draco off guard. He had expected her to be so absorbed in her shopping that she wouldn't even notice him drift up. That however, was not the case. Draco regarded her cautiously, but one look back to Jacque told him that he was nowhere near satisfactory behavior.

"Welcome to Saks Fifth Avenue," Draco stated monotonously in an effort to sound French. He could have sworn he heard some type of muffled laughter but ignored it and continued, "My name is Draco and I'm here to assist you in any way possible."

"Well," the girl began in a light, courteous tone, "my friend and I—Marie paused, glancing around for Hermione—well, I don't know where she is, but we're looking for dresses for this ball we're having. It's for work though so we can't have anything too," Marie paused, trying to come up with the right word. "Flirtatious," she finally decided, smiling prettily at Draco. .

"I see," Draco said easily, wracking his brain for what outfit would be professional and pretty for the girls.

Hermione, shifted uneasily, pushing away a clothes hanger that was digging into her back. _What ball? What the heck?_

"Yeah, so if you can help me and my friend, um, her name is….," Marie bit her lip, and looked confused.

"Hermione!" Hermione supplied in a whisper, slightly offended.

Malfoy flicked his head around, and was now genuinely confused. Something was definitely weird about this girl and her nonexistent friend.

Hermione, deciding now would be a good time to move, made a dash for it, and headed for a slightly more secluded section of the shop. Malfoy however had no trouble spotting her movement and followed her quickly, trailed by Marie who was nodding her head, "Yeah—Hermione, that was it!"

Looking around nervously, Hermione grabbed some clothes from a nearby rack and pretended to be interested in her selection, in the hopes of Malfoy mistaking her for a customer.

Unfortunately, it didn't work.

"Little—promiscuous, don't you think? Although, with tastes like that, it's no wonder Potty and Weasel hang on to you every word," Draco grinned.

Hermione, looking down, found herself holding a black lace, lingerie set. She turned a startling shade of red and cowered slightly. _Of all the things in the entire store to pick up_, she chastised mentally as Marie approached, a smile still on her face.

"Oh Hermione, that's adorable! You need to go try it on!" She squeaked approvingly. Hermione's blush darkened.

"No way!" She declared hotly. Marie looked confused.

"Why not?"

"I, ah, no!" Hermione supplied, stumbling over her own words.

"Look no one cares, it's not as if you know anybody here!" She smiled, shoving Hermione into the changing rooms. Malfoy, leaned against the wall, smirking. He fumbled for something in his pocket.

Marie, who had followed Hermione in, was now forcing her to change.

"No! Get … _off_…me!" Hermione squirmed.

"Stop making such a fuss!" Marie smiled, "you'll look great!"

"I don't want to wear it! Please," she begged. Marie put her hands on her hips defiantly.

"If you don't, then I'll fire you!"

Hermione froze. Marie had been so sweet throughout the day, but she seemed like the kind of girl who always got her way—or else—and Hermione, not sure if she was joking, decided not to risk it.

"See! You look fine, now go take a look!" Marie said, shoving Hermione _again_, out of the room. Hermione felt her cheeks burn red and she wondered vaguely if she would ever get the blush to go away. Just when she thought that she had suffered enough she heard it.

_Snap._

"Its one-one Granger," Malfoy laughed, as Hermione groaned into her hands.

* * *

Malfoy, leaning on his elbows on the check out, looked up to see a very disgruntled Hermione shove him the set, while Marie shoved a whole selection of clothes onto the counter. She had dragged Hermione round the whole store before Hermione had convinced her she had enough. 

Flustered, Marie handed one of her several credit cards to Malfoy who held it in his hands. He stared at it for a second, and then flicked it. He looked slightly confused and stared at Hermione, who raised her eyebrow mockingly.

"Er," Marie said, staring at Malfoy, "is there a problem?"

"Um," Malfoy replied uncomfortably. Jacques had told him just about everything to do except for how to actually work the cash register—_and why would he, _Malfoy though to himself, _he probably assumed all Muggles knew how to do this sort of bloody useless thing. _Malfoy glanced up to Hermione, who stood smirking at him. She seemed fully prepared to let him suffer as long as possible. Then, just as Draco had given up and was about to call Jacques over, she grabbed his wrist, taking the card.

"Here," Hermione said, swiping the card while never breaking eye contact with Draco.

Her face plainly read:

You owe me. Big time.

"Right, of course," Malfoy said, arrogantly.

Handing the card back to a very confused Marie, he just handed her the clothes.

Hermione however, wanted payback.

"Can you put them in bag**s** please?" she said, grinning with pleasure. She could now see why McGonagall gave him this job. It meant he would finallydo something for _other _people.

"Of course," he said, through gritted teeth.

Marie, who was looking at the two of them, frowned and asked.

"Do you guys, like—know each other?"

"Yes."

"No." They said simultaneously. Marie smiled.

"Oh, I get it! You guys are together! Duh," she said, slapping her forehead.

"What?!" They both exclaimed, equally horrified.

"Silly me, ok well ciao!" Marie said, grabbing the bags, and running out of the store, with an exhausted Hermione, and a thoroughly annoyed Malfoy.

And this was only day one.

* * *

"Mmmm," Marie sighed, breathing in the air of her warm coffee, "that guy is so hot!" 

"What?" Hermione spluttered, hot water splashing into her face at her shock.

"You guys are ah-dorable!"

"Look—we're not going out ok, so you can have him. I don't care!" Hermione defended vehemently. Marie smiled.

"Sweet! Seriously, he's so cute," she crowed excitedly.

"Yeah, no problem," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"I forgot to tell you, we have this like—ball thing, you know for—,"

"Work?" Hermione supplied when Marie looked lost.

"Yeah, I forgot for a sec," Marie giggled.

Snorting into her cup, Hermione closed her eyes, and drank the relaxing tea. She needed a break. And she hadn't even worked that much!

"So what should I expect to happen?" Hermione asked, wondering if Marie would even be the right person to ask for anything except wardrobe.

"Well, you go with a partner, if you want—but obviously me and Draco would go to together—and I could totally hook you up with some hot French guy so don't worry," she trailed, talking more to herself than Hermione. It was only when Hermione coughed that she even seemed to remember that Hermione was there.

"Well yeah, you just go, and that's it!"

"When is it?"

"Oh, it's in here," Marie said, pulling out an expensive agenda from her even _more _expensive bag, "um, it's on the first of November!" Hermione thought for a second.

"That's a little under three weeks then," she said, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

"Yeah! On a Friday night—be there or be square," Marie grinned, making a square with her fingers.

Hermione smiled, felt as if she was talking to a two year old. Hopefully she wouldn't rub off on her.

* * *

"Well done Mr. Malfoy!" Jacque said approvingly, "Marie can be a bit, _demanding_, but she's a regular customer and you managed to get her to buy a little more than the usual so congratulations!" 

"She's like Pansy," Draco speculated to himself.

"Who?"

"Never mind." Jacques rolled his eyes.

"You have a five minute break in twenty minutes and then you'll be here for another two hours."

"Yeah, great." He said, trying to get him to leave.

It worked.

Malfoy sat down on a stool, and thought about what had just happened.

Granger had just been here, with this Marie person, who was talking about some kind of ball thing—and he had seen Hermione in her underwear! Hah! He smiled to himself.

Maybe this whole work thing wouldn't be so terrible.

* * *

"So, did you manage to find a dress?" Hermione asked. 

"I think so," Marie said, fiddling around in the bags. "Damn—I forgot!"

She had bought almost one of everything in the store, and yet, she had forgotten to buy the only article of clothing she really needed. Hermione couldn't believe that this person was supposed to be her _superior_, although she would choose her, over someone like Snape any day.

"So, we need to find one for you, don't we?" Marie said.

"I don't think I can really afford—," Hermione was burning to say 'your taste', but didn't want to sound mean. She had in fact paid for her, so she was slightly indebted to her.

"That's fine just put it on the bank!"

"What?" Hermione asked, horrified.

"Well, you could! No-one would notice."

"Yeah, but," Hermione was at a loss for words.

"Well, you could always charge it to me," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione let it go; there was no point in trying to argue with her. Besides, it could be fun.

"So, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?" Hermione asked.

"Do what you want! Go home, write a letter, go shopping, I don't mind!" Marie said dismissively.

"What, so I can just go?" Hermione wondered dubiously.

"Yeah sure!"

Nervously, she stood up too leave, not sure if it was the politest thing to do.

"Oh my god, I forgot! Silly me!" Marie said, shaking her head at herself. Searching in her bag again, she drew out a package. Opening it, a small, organizer thing dropped out on to Hermione's palm.

"It's a phone agenda!" Marie said enthusiastically "I would use one but I have no idea how they work! And you look all clever and stuff, so spend the rest of you day figuring how it works!" she said innocently. Hermione smiled. She was just too nice to get frustrated at.

"Are you sure you want me to go?"

"No it's fine; I'm meeting one of my old high-school friends! She's really stressed out, because she had kids like, when she was still at school, so she needs some time to talk and chill out, you know? If that happened to me my dad would totally kill me!" she winked at Hermione, who grinned.

"Ok, well sounds like fun!"

"Oh, I'll call you so you can get my number programmed into that!"

"Sure thing."

"Oh, and if you get messages from work and stuff, just delete them—that's what I do!"

Trying to stop herself laughing, she hugged Marie, and waved goodbye.

Not one step out of the store, a loud Hermione was attacked by a disturbing beeping started. People all around looked at Hermione, who was frantically trying to find the small phone, which had hid itself in her pocket. The beep kept getting louder, and was making Hermione panicky. Grasping it, she held it tight, and clicked the small _ok_, button, which linked open to a message.

**From: Marie!**

**To: H**

**Subject: Wait!**

**Hermione, you left something!!! J**

Turning back into the shop, Hermione walked saw Marie waving eccentrically at her. Walking quickly over to her, she asked what she had forgotten.

"This!"

And with that, she shoved the tiny bag of clothes Hermione had bought. She had hoped she had would have gotten away with it, by just leaving it. Obviously not.

Damn.

* * *

Taking the keys out of her pocket, Hermione walked into the apartment. 

Dropping the bags, and the food she had bought for dinner tonight, she collapsed onto the couch. It had been a tiring day, and she hadn't even done any proper work.

Taking out some paper, and a pen, she began to write.

* * *

_Dear Harry and Ginny,_

_I'm here, in le Paris! It's awesome, but I'm exhausted! Malfoy is surprisingly…ok, but I still can't say I'm happy to be with him! He can be so annoying sometimes…but anyway!_

_Work is…weird. I work with another girl, called Marie. She is…fun? I suppose, in your opinion, she will help me loosen up. She seems to only live to shop! But that's ok I suppose…she's still nice, and she doesn't mean it. She just needs a little reality check!_

_And how are you guys? Ron been bugging you two about being together! Really happy for you guys! How's you apartment like? Mine's awesome! And work?_

_Ack! Have to go; stupid mobile thing is beeping…_

_Help!_

_Hermione_

* * *

**From: Mr. Riley**

**To: H**

**Subject: Hello**

**I take it Marie has given you your mobile. Crafty little thing, wouldn't you say? How are you doing? I know Marie can be a little—amusing at times! If you do ever feel like you need to actually _do _something, I have a pile of things you could help me out with! You're a smart girl, and it's a shame you had to be stuck with something like this…we could use someone with your potential.**

**Good luck!**

**Mr. Riley**

Hermione reread the message, feeling better about the whole experience. She was glad to know that Mr. Riley understood her predicament and decided that she would help him with his work the following day—regardless of how much Marie thought they _needed _to go shopping.

Hermione smiled to herself.

Maybe the whole experience wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

* * *

Malfoy walked in later that night, his feet dragging in exhaustion. Not only had Jacques kept him over his scheduled hours, he had also refused to pay for overtime, stating that Draco had "wanted" to stay and help. _As if_, Draco moaned to himself. Fire breathing dragons couldn't make him _want _to stay a second longer than necessary with that blasted man. Still, Draco thought it best not to argue and instead had worked diligently alongside him in the hopes of returning home in time for dinner. 

"Granger!" Malfoy bellowed, closing the door behind him. "Are you here?"

"Yes I'm here," Hermione snapped, walking out from the kitchen. She handed Draco a plate of food and took a seat at the table. Surprised—Draco had been anticipating a more hostile greeting—Draco followed suit and sat down in the chair across from Hermione. She didn't seem inclined to speak of their meeting earlier but Draco had a feeling that wouldn't last—as soon as she wanted something she would surely bring up the whole credit-card-fiasco.

_Well, I can always bring up the whole lingerie thing too_, Draco reminded himself, digging into his food with a renewed appetite. Speaking of which, Draco found himself smiling at the renewed image of Hermione in the little black number. To his surprise, Hermione had actually looked pretty good in it—pretty _damn _good in fact. Who knew the little Mudblood had it in her under all those bookish ways?

"What are you smiling about?" Hermione demanded upon seeing the wolfish gleam in Draco's eyes. She had a good guess as to what he was remembering and hoped direct confrontation would erase it from his memory.

If only she were that lucky.

"I was just thinking about how nice it will be to go to bed." Hermione paused, eyeing him skeptically. If she was guessing right, that wasn't the _only _thing he had been thinking about.

"Yeah, I'm sure the couch will welcome me with open arms," Hermione noted bitterly, figuring that if Draco had been successful at keeping her out of the bedroom and on the couch thus far, he wouldn't change his actions for the night. To her surprise though, Draco smiled, shaking his head.

"After seeing the kind of thing you go to bed in Granger, I have a feeling we should seriously rethink the sleeping arrangements tonight."

Hermione blanched.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, so here's the next chapter me (and my beta...pink-levicorpus!) worked hard to get this one done, and I personally, really like it! I hope you did too...and it would mean SO much if you guys could all review! Makes me smile (and for all you fellow authors out there, you know _exactly_ what I mean!) So if you could do me a small favour, please review...even if it's one word (haha...preferably not though:P) it would totally make my day!!!**

**Oh, and if you have any suggestions, ideas, tips etc...leave me a message, and I'll try and use it!**

**Thanks so much for all the support :-)**

**cioa! x**


	9. Assignment 1 Part I

**Assignment 1. _Part 1_**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't own it...**

* * *

"Very funny," Hermione choked out when she regained her voice. Malfoy smirked. 

"Who would have known what you've been hiding under your robes all those years," he drawled teasingly, "I'm truly amazed Granger. Who would have thought that _you _actually have a _figure_?_" _

"Well maybe if you had looked and had bothered to actually notice I was there, you would have realized sooner," Hermione pointed out huffily.

"But now I know about it Granger and there's no hiding underneath your robes anymore," he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Sod off," Hermione snarled, striding across the room and slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Grinning, Malfoy accepted the fact that he would be the one sleeping on the couch tonight.

* * *

Malfoy groaned tiredly into his pillow as a knock jarred him from his dead sleep. Lifting his head from the mountain of pillows he had amassed on the tiny couch, Malfoy squinted to see the skinny red numbers on the microwave. He groaned when he finally made them out; it was only 9:30. 

_I still have another half hour to sleep_, Malfoy thought grouchily, _so why the hell is someone at the door now?_

Rolling off the couch, Draco rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled across the room towards the door. Without even bothering to look through the tiny peek hole—who the hell needed it anyway?—Draco threw open the door and grunted a muffled "what?" at whoever was on the doorstep. Squinting, Draco realized who it was.

The crazy red-headed girl he had met in the store.

"What do you want?" Draco groaned, stepping back as she invited herself in.

"I brought some breakfast!" She chirped sweetly, making a beeline for the fancy kitchen.

_Oh, so gorgeous_, Marie sighed inwardly, taking in both the apartment and the boy in it.

Blinking the remaining sleep from his eyes, Draco turned to get a good look at her. He had only seen her during work and he was bound to be distracted then, but now, well, now he had all the time he needed to give her a good once-over.

_I suppose she's cute, _Draco mused to himself after a more thorough examination. She was wearing a very tiny black skirt which showed off her obvious affluence, which Draco took to be a good thing. And paired with her white collared shirt and matching kitten heels her beauty was undeniable.

She looked good.

But she wasn't what Draco wanted.

"Who the fuck are you?" He snapped with more venom than he intended, wincing as her face fell.

"I'm Marie," she said simply, then, as an afterthought, "you know—Hermione's friend."

"Hermio-Granger has friends?" Draco wondered, surprised at how easily her name had started to roll off his tongue. Blaming it on the hour, Draco shrugged it off and turned back to Marie who was smiling prettily.

"You're funny," she cooed approvingly, holding up her bag, "I brought breakfast for you two." She reached into her bag and brought out three croissants which still looked warm.

"Great!" Malfoy said, grabbing the bag, and hungrily taking one out.

"You're welcome!" Marie squealed brightly. Malfoy nodded through bites of the pastry.

_Jeez—we're gonna have to work on his manner, _Marie thought inwardly.

Hermione opened the door and peered out.

"What the hell?" she whispered.

She walked out of the bedroom and into the living room where she was immediately accosted by a scantily-clad Marie.

"Mione!" Marie called, pulling her into a tight hug. Confused, Hermione stood there limply, letting Marie embrace her.

Malfoy, who was too busy eating his croissant to come up with something witty, just smirked at Hermione, who shot him an annoyed look.

"What...err...what are you doing here?" Hermione asked finally as Marie pulled away.

"I came to say good morning to you guys!" Marie explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Marie flounced over to the couch and plopped down gracefully, signaling for Draco to take the seat beside her. With a confused glance to Hermione, Malfoy did as he was told and cautiously took a seat as Marie immediately began spouting off about how she had managed to get some kind of premiere tickets for a movie coming out soon. Malfoy was nodding his head, even though he didn't know what a premiere was, and keeping his eyes trained on Hermione.

Hermione, tired as she was, walked to the kitchen and called out,

"Coffee anyone?"

"Yeah" Malfoy said, Marie, looked at him, her eyes full of admiration. She edged closer to him, and Malfoy swallowed.

Hermione watched with disinterest, turning around so she didn't have to witness the embarrassment Marie was surely enduring, throwing herself at a guy like she was.

_Marie is so desperate to have him! Why? _Hermione thought, _she must have noticed what an arrogant prick he is…_

"Malfoy!" Hermione yelled out suddenly as her eye caught the clock, "You have fifteen minutes until you have to get to work!"

"Shit," he murmured, although inwardly he was thankful for a reason to move away from Marie.

"Oh no, no, no," Marie said, a smile playing over her mouth "I arranged with Jacque for you to be excused today!"

"What?!" Hermione and Malfoy screamed in unison. "You can do that?"

"Sure…I have the right connections!"she smiled._ "_And this way we can all do something together."

By _all_, Hermione figured, she meant herself and Malfoy. There was no way she would be invited to join them. Hermione looked to Malfoy for help but he merely shrugged noncommittally.

"Sounds good to me."

"Maybe, we could go to the _Louvre _and the _Eiffel Tower_," Hermione hinted heavily, raising an eyebrow at Malfoy, who seemed confused until he realized she was talking about doing one of the assignments.

"Yeah sure! Sounds really—_romantic,_" Marie purred.

Grinning at the grimacing Malfoy, Hermione continued to stir the coffee.

"Me and Hermione need to drop in at the office for a second though," Marie said. "Oh, and Mr. Riley wanted you to meet someone Hermione," she added.

Frowning, Hermione gave Malfoy his coffee and settled in the chair across from the couch.

"Well, I should probably get changed then," Hermione said, walking towards the bedroom.

Flicking through her clothes, she pulled out a skirt, thick tights, and a thick woolly jumper. She added a French beret as extra accessory, along with a blue and white scarf. Bunching everything into a ball, she walked into the living room, where she could see Marie rambling on about something, and Malfoy, pretending to listen while surreptitiously glancing around for Hermione. When he caught sight of her he raised his eyebrows pleadingly.

Sighing, she called across the room,

"Marie, can you come check if my outfit is okay?"

Marie, who sprang up when she heard the word _outfit_, left Malfoy, who was now sneering at Hermione, to stand up, and get his own clothes from the bedroom.

Shoving Hermione into the bathroom, she put the outfit on the floor as Hermione quickly took a shower. Slightly uncomfortable with Marie standing right outside the shower, Hermione hurried to get a towel wrapped around her before she left the privacy of the shower.

Stepping out, she heard Marie squeal something about "dying to do your hair".

Cringing, Hermione watched as Marie rummaged around the cupboards, finally extracting a curler and a straighter.

"Um—isn't my hair curly enough?" Hermione wondered. Marie smiled, wielding the hair tools like battle weapons as she approached Hermione.

"Yeah—but it's like ugly curls, I'm gonna make them pretty," Marie explained. Hermione groaned but said nothing as Marie approached.

"Don't worry, I've done this a million times," Marie said comfortingly as Hermione tensed up. Then, after a minute, she added, "Do you think Draco likes me?"

Hermione paused, not entirely sure if now was the right time to tell her that Draco's affections for her didn't seem to be as strong as her own. She was, after all, holding a burning iron an inch from Hermione's scalp.

"Maybe," Hermione offered uneasily, her eyes trained on the flatiron.

"So, like—what's up between you two?" Marie pried, glancing down at the squirming Hermione.

Hermione coughed uncomfortably. How was she supposed to tell Marie that they hated each other since the beginning of Hogwarts, which was a school for witchcraft and wizardry, and that they were here to prepare for their lives after they finished school?

She couldn't, that's how. Fortunately, before Hermione could even begin to formulate a logical response, Marie cut in again.

"You guys aren't dating are you?"

"God no," Hermione said, though she was surprised by the pause in her tone.

"Good."

Eager to change the subject, Hermione asked whether it would be wiser to go to the Eiffel Tower or to the Louvre first.

"Well, the Eiffel Tower is more romantic at night, but far busier, so you're better off going there," Marie instructed knowingly. "_Voila_!" She added with a smile.

Hermione looked into the mirror and stifled a scream.

"It looks HORRIBLE!"

"I know, but now I'm gonna curl it!"

Not particularly sure if the result of curling it would be much better than what she had just seen, Hermione sat back down and let her do it.

"Oh, and the outfit's fine," Marie said.

"Oh, thanks!" Hermione smiled, getting an approval from Marie, was a_ good_ thing, in Hermione's opinion.

"No problem! You know we go out on Friday's, so if you want to come with?..." she asked.

"Sure" Hermione replied, not entirely sure who _we_ included.

A few minutes later, Marie told Hermione she was done.

Looking in the mirror, Hermione found that she looked _almost_ exactly the same, but her hair was a little less unruly, and a little more—pretty? Twirling one of the long strands, Hermione quite liked the new change, and thanked Marie for it.

Barging out of the bathroom to head towards the office, Hermione and Marie yelled at Malfoy (who was actually standing waiting for them at the door) to hurry up. Grabbing her bag Marie and Hermione proceeded to drag Malfoy out of the apartment, running down the hall to the lift. Jabbing at the button, he clambered inside.

Once inside the elevator, Hermione glanced to her feet self consciously as it was obvious Marie was trying to maneuver her way next to Draco.

Hermione chose to ignore them.

"Run! We are _so_ late!" Marie yelled as soon as the door opened and the trio raced outside into the early morning sun, sprinting down the sidewalk at breakneck pace. Hermione stumbled to keep up with Marie and Malfoy who easily outran her.

Ahead of Hermione, Draco called out,

"What happened to your hair?"

"You noticed?" she panted, struggling to keep pace with her two companions.

"Yeah, looks less crap then usual."

"Thanks to me!" Marie quipped.

"Yeah—she changed it for me." Ahead of her, Hermione heard Draco mumble something unintelligible and chose to ignore it, not entirely sure whether it was a compliment or not.

A few minutes passed in silence as the trio completed the final few blocks to the office and, dashing inside, Hermione and Marie dove into their seats just as Mr. Tomlinson, and Mr. Riley entered the room. Trying to control her breathing, Hermione bid them good morning, same as Marie.

"Ah, Miss. Granger, there is someone I would like you too meet in my office," Mr. Riley said, a knowing smile playing on his face.

Marie grinned broadly, nodding encouragingly for her to follow Mr. Riley. Just as Mr. Tomlinson left, staring evilly at Marie, Draco entered the room.

* * *

"Miss. Granger, this is Pierre, Pierre this is Hermione Granger." 

Hermione gaped at him.

He was _so_ hot!

"I take it you received my message yesterday, Miss. Granger?" Mr. Riley asked, noting the distinct blush that had flushed across Hermione's complexion.

"Yes," she mumbled.

"Well, here is your partner! You two will be sorting out a little legal documentation for me, and although Miss. Granger has no experience, I'm sure you can handle it, right?"

Smiling sweetly, Hermione nodded.

"Hello," Pierre said, shaking Hermione's hand, and kissing her on the cheek. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Blushing furiously when he kissed her, Hermione reminded herself it was a _normal_ greeting in France, and not because he felt anything for her. She just wasn't used to it.

"Likewise," she said.

"Well, Antoine I have to go, but we'll be in touch," he winked at Hermione.

Hermione noted, that he was on first name terms with Mr. Riley. Which was quite odd, seeing as he could not be _that_ much older than her…he must obviously have quite a high status too be able to call him 'Antoine', which, was _definitely_ an asset, in Hermione's opinion.

"Bye!" she smiled

Stepping out of the office, he closed the door.

* * *

Draco, who had been watching the scene unfold through the glass windows at the sides of the door, immediately noticed the attraction between Hermione and the mystery guy and was slightly disturbed by the knotting in his stomach. He assumed it was disgust. 

Still though, Draco felt the need to talk with the man.

"Hello," he said, stepping in front of the guy as he walked out of the office.

"Um...hello," Pierre said, confused. Draco stuck out his hand though he was in no mood for pleasantries.

"My name is Draco Malfoy."

"Pierre Louis."

"You like her?" Draco asked, skipping all remaining formalities and jerking his head in Hermione's direction. Pierre smiled, nodding his head.

"I see—boyfriend?" He guessed with a knowing smirk. Draco balked.

"No!" Pierre didn't seem convinced, but shrugged anyway.

"Oh, well yes then—she seems nice."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, just don't—don't mess around with her," Draco said with as much intimidation as he could muster. The boy smiled as if he knew something Draco didn't, but Draco ignored him. It wasn't as if he _liked _Hermione or anything. He just didn't want to witness Granger messing around with some guy right in front of him. He grimaced the thought of seeing a _Mudblood_ making out with a _Muggle._ It was enough to turn his stomach completely.

Slightly put off by Malfoy's comment, Pierre simply stood there, not entirely sure about what to say.

Marie, who was watching everything, stepped in.

"Pierre!" She squealed, kissing him on the cheek. "How are you?"

"Ah! Marie; _Je suis très bien des mercis, et toi_?" (I'm fine thanks, and you?)

"_Je trop; Draco vraiment gentil, il est juste un bit fatigué_" (I'm good; don't worry about Draco he's nice, he's just a bit tired.)

"_Je vois. Toute la réunion vers le haut pour vendredi_?" (I see. Well I guess I'll see you on Friday?)

"_Naturellement_!" (Of course!)

"_Hermione sera-t-il là_?" (Will Hermione be there?)

"_Oui, oui_!" (Yes, yes!)

"Well, goodbye then!" Pierre smiled, kissing Marie.

"What the fuck?" Draco snarled, angry at being left out, "You guys think you can have a private conversation right in front of me!"

"Well, yes." Pierre said, leaving the room with a nod and a wave.

"Asshole," Draco murmured under his breath.

Marie ran towards him, tossing her arms around him comfortingly.

"Aw, Sweetie, it's okay!" She cooed lovingly. Draco cringed.

"Don't call me that."

"What, Sweetie?"

"Yes!" _Stupid goddamn Muggle!_

"All we said was that you and Hermione are really nice people!"

"—well thank you!" Hermione said, interrupting their conversation, "I can't wait to get started Mr. Riley!"

And with that she closed the door to the office.

"Hey guys, ready to go?" Hermione asked, "Why are you sulking Malfoy?"

"Because you're pissing me off."

"Loosing your touch," she noted. Then, before she could say anything else, Marie pulled her close.

"Do you like Pierre?" Marie murmured, though her tone was demanding. Hermione smiled.

"He's cute," Hermione admitted, allowing her girlish fantasies to take over her normally-level thought processes. Marie giggled in agreement and the two whispered for another moment before Draco cut in.

"I think we should be going," he said sharply. He was already noticing Hermione's change in personality, now that she had been around Marie, and that she was in her 'natural' muggle surroundings. He wasn't too sure if this was actually a _negative_ change though…

'Chill!' Hermione smiled. She was quick to notice that he hadn't been so keen on the outing _before_.

Walking out, Marie began to hail a cab until Hermione cut in. The assignment was to get there on foot, not have a car take them.

"We can't go on a cab," Hermione pointed out, nudging Malfoy for confirmation.

"Yeah—we can't," he agreed after Hermione's elbow connected sharply with his rib. Marie looked confused.

"Why not?"

"Draco's, uh—scared?" Hermione offered, deliberately ignoring the angry glare Draco's eyes were burning into the side of her head.

"Poor you!" Marie cooed loudly, "Of course we can walk!" She didn't sound too happy about it though.

"Well, you can always take a cab by yourself and meet us there," Draco suggested. Marie looked thoughtful, torn between leaving Draco and saving herself and hour's walk. In the end, she decided that leaving Draco was the lesser of the two evils.

"I suppose I'll take a cab and meet you there. I need to collect a few things for a dinner tonight," she decided, though Hermione didn't trust the mischievous gleam in her eyes. Draco however, remained oblivious.

"Ok then!"

Calling goodbye to Marie, who was now sitting in the back of the cab, and waving furiously at them, Hermione turned to face Malfoy.

"So…" she asked, "any idea how long of a walk it's going to be?"

"Well, Marie told me that it would take one, or maybe two hours from here…' he sighed.

"Oh…" she said, sounding disappointed.

"Great. I'm going to be spending my only free day, stuck with _you_" Draco said, in a harsh tone.

And do you honestly think, Hermione wasn't thinking _exactly _the same about Malfoy?

* * *

**A/N: Heyy! Ok, so...the original plan was too update one HUUUGE chapter on Friday, but after discussing it with my beta (pink-levicorpus, check out her fic's too!) we decided...too give you half the chapter _now_, so that it wouldn't be too long on Friday! However, I'm not entirely sure if I will still update _this_ Friday (it will take a lot of encouragement and persuasion on your behalf :P ) so, I hope you enjoy this for now!**

**Oh, just need to clear up on a few comments, and mistakes!  
1. I meant to put 'madamemoiselle' instead of 'madame', because that means married women, and, I'm pretty sure Hermione isn't married! (thank's for spotting that!)  
2. I meant to put 'secutary', not 'sectary'...  
3. I got the name 'Mr. Riley' from a reviewer ;-)  
That's all so far, but if you need to know anything else...let me know!**

**I have a question for everyone...::drum roll::**

**_How long should this fic be?_**

**Lol, that's it! Pleaaase review, and thanks SO much for everyone who did!!! Kisses x  
Remember, this is only the _first_** **half of this entire chapter...!**


	10. Assignment 1 Part II

_...so, that's how we stayed for half an hour or so...just randomly pushing each into the crowd, hoping that one of us would pick up, and listen to the directions the few people actually gave us. Eventually, after someone actually shouted at Malfoy we decided to stop, and start paying attention to where we were going. Marie had texted me several times, much to Malfoy's amusement, so she was basically always 'with us'. Walking through the city, I had this odd feeling that...I don't know, if I had not known Malfoy before, and if it was just...us walking down the streets, laughing at each other's attempts to find the way, we could have just been...friends...?_

Hermione set down her pen, smiling in confusion at what she had just written.

* * *

…_.it was all right. It's the first time I got a kick out of just having...fun. It wasn't dangerous or violent, but just...fun. The city is always busy. I looked into some of these shops, and sometimes I think 'what the hell is the point in that?' but other times, I can see why she must have enjoyed living in the Muggle world. I can't believe I'm going to actually say this...but Paris is an amazing city to be in…._

Draco stared down at what he had just written, frowning slightly. Then, picking up his pen, he began to cross the last few lines out.

* * *

Hermione, still smiling at the notion that she and Malfoy could _ever _be friends, put her pen back to the paper and wrote again….. 

_I'm starting to really enjoy this whole experience, despite it only being only one day into the competition. Hah! I didn't even remember that it WAS a competition! This place is just like a normal holiday, except for it's just me...and him._

_Well, anyway...once we arrived at the Eiffel tower….._

* * *

"Shit! She's there!" Draco groaned, pointing at the shining red head, sticking out through the flocks of people that were mulling around near the tower. "Oh Merlin..." he breathed, looking up at the magnificent monument, which stood ahead of him. 

"How—how did, Muggles do this?" Draco found himself asking. Hermione smiled.

"It's beautiful isn't it?"

"Talking about me?" Marie interrupted, running up to the newly-arrived pair and slinging her arm around Draco.

"No," he said flatly. Marie hardly seemed to notice.

"Too bad. I've gotten some really nice food, and I've already bought tickets to go up," Marie said brightly, "We take the first 2 stairs by lift, then we walk the rest. Besides, it's much nicer that way!"

"Ok...err, sounds good...but," Hermione began slowly, her brow furrowing in slight irritation.

"Oh wait, I have to take this!" Marie said, flinging her phone out of her pocket, and replying coolly "Hello, Marie speaking."

"What Granger?" Malfoy said as soon as Marie had stepped aside and began an animated conversation with the person on the other line. Hermione blushed deeply, staring at her feet.

"Well, it's nothing big, it's just—I'm kindascaredofheights," she mumbled quickly. Draco burst into a bright grin.

"No way! You're screwed!" Malfoy laughed.

"Oh thanks!' Hermione said, frowning."Remember how scared you were when we first came here?"

"I was NOT scared!"

"You _so _were!" Hermione countered with a grin.

"I felt the same way you did when you came into Hogwarts." Malfoy said, smiling, that Hermione would have to admit she was scared when she first arrived at Hogwarts, if she was too call him scared. But unfortunately for Malfoy, Hermione was _not_ your average Slytherin, and was not scared to hide her feelings.

"Terrified then" Hermione admitted.

"You were?" He asked sincerely, surprised. Hermione nodded.

"Of course! Just imagine it, after living 11 years of your life in a world like _this_," she said, throwing her hands into the air, and twirling around on the spot, "Obviously I'm going to be scared. When I realized I was losing everything I had grown up with and believed in I was petrified!"

"Well, when you put it like that," Malfoy said, pretending to be touched. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know, you couldn't care less," she said, shaking her head with a smile.

"You know, you smile way too much for a sane person,'' Malfoy remarked, though he found himself grinning back at her.

"I agree!" Marie chirped, returning to the conversation._ "_Ready to go Draco? Oh, and you Hermione!" she added, clinging onto Malfoy's arm.

Laughing at Malfoy's bewildered face, and Marie's innocent one, Hermione led the way up to one of the four entrances, which were all over flowing with people. Standing in the line however was something Draco was definitely _not_ used too.

Especially when he was surrounded by Muggles.

"Stop fidgeting," Hermione hissed at Malfoy who was jumping up and down on the railing and sighing dramatically every few seconds.

'This fucking sucks" Draco said, emphasizing the swear-word, which Hermione had been careful to leave out of her own reprimand. People turned to stare at him, muttering about 'teenagers', which made Marie upset, and Hermione embarrassed to be near him. "Can't we buy something that will make us skip this queue?"

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione snorted to herself, "Malfoy wants to skive out of actual toil. _There's _a surprise."

"Shut up Mudblood," Malfoy snarled back, crossing his arms across his chest. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Excuse me Mr. I-have-everything-handed-to-me-on-a-silver-platter," Hermione shot back.

"Gold," Malfoy corrected easily. "And what's so bad about having lots of money?"

"You can't buy everything with money you know," Hermione noted, turning away. Malfoy however seemed content to continue the fight.

"Name one thing I couldn't buy," he tested.

"You couldn't buy _me_,_" _Hermione retaliated sharply, her eyes squinting challengingly.

"But you can buy me!" Marie said brightly, batting her eyelashes. Draco groaned. She was more and more like Pansy every day.

"I wouldn't even want you," Draco said spitefully, looking back at Hermione, "so no worries about that Granger"

Before Hermione could reply with a decent comeback, Marie butted in,

"What is up with you guys calling each other by your lasts names?!" she wondered in confusion, "I feel like I'm constantly around people from work, _not _friends!"

"Old school habit," Hermione grumbled.

"It's annoying," Marie decided, "And can you please stop fighting? Everyone's looking at us!" She whined, nodding her head at all the people, who were in fact, following every word of the conversation.

"Sorry..._Draco_,_" _Hermione said unwillingly, stressing his name, to please Marie, and annoy Draco. But somehow to her, it didn't sound too bad….

"Whatever..._Hermione_."

"See—much better!" Marie added, "Now it's more—relaxed!"

"How, exactly?" asked, Draco, with a note of genuine interest in his voice.

But before Marie could reply, the crowd swarmed forward, towards the entrance, which was guarded by two large men, who were checking bags and tickets.

"You two," one of the guards said, pointing at Hermione and Malfoy who stepped forward.

Hermione and Draco stood while the guard checked their belongings, their anger simmering until Marie's voice rang out across the crowd.

"Hey! Watch it!" she cried, when they guy shoved her back into the crowd, "I'm with _them_!" She shouted. This certainly did _not_ help, as she was given an evil glare, and pushed even further back into the crowd.

"We'll wait for you up there," Hermione shouted, gesturing at the first level of the ascending structure.

"No we won't ._Hermione,_" Draco said pointedly, pulling Hermione past the platform and towards the lift. "That girl is driving me crazy!"

"That's just mean!" Hermione argued even though she was feeling the same way. Draco smirked.

"Chalk it up to my Slytherin upbringing." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course," she said sarcastically, "look however much you don't like her, we have to show her some respect! She managed to get _you _off work today!"

"And?"

"You owe her!"

"Like hell I do!"

"Draco Malfoy you do too owe Marie, so you _will_ be nice!" Hermione said sternly.

"God, you sound just like my _mother_," Malfoy said dryly.

"Would you listen to me if I was?" Draco thought for a moment.

"Probably not." Hermione shrugged—she hadn't really expected him to listen anyway.

"Well at least we have that sorted out."

Hermione looked around, assessing the pathway. People were banging and jostling around all over the place, making it almost impossible to walk straight. Hermione managed to catch a glimpse of an open elevator though and turned to call out to Draco who had been jostled away. Before she could say anything though, Hermione was suddenly struck by some tall, and rather large, man. Without even apologizing, or helping her up, he nudged Hermione out the way to get into the lift.

"Hey!" Hermione called from the floor.

The man, raising his eyebrow merely waved goodbye, and called "_Au revoir_" over the characteristic "ding" of the lift.

Draco however, had seen everything. Stepping in front of the closing door (he had seen several people do that, to get the door to open), he wrenched the man from the lift.

"Apologize," he hissed at him. Shoving him towards Hermione, who took Malfoy's outstretched hand to help her up.

"Draco, no," Hermione coached, her backside and her ego still hurting, "Just leave it. People can be like that, okay?" Draco shook his head though, clearly unsatisfied. Even if it was just a Mudblood that was injured, he had been raised to treat women with respect—well, mostly. And despite his frequent lapses, Draco knew it was unacceptable.

"A gentleman does _not_ act like that!" He growled defiantly, turning towards the cowering man. "Now tell her you're sorry!"

The man, shrinking under Draco's force, stuttered a hurried apology in French and ran away back into the crowd.

"Draco!" Hermione scolded through gritted teeth, hitting him lightly on his chest, "You can't just _do_ that!" Draco however seemed unfazed.

"I love it how you say my name all angsty," he smirked, "you sound so—,"

"—pissed off?" Hermione cut in. Draco shook his head.

"I was thinking more along the lines of—sexy?" Despite her obvious irritation towards the blond, Hermione found herself laughing.

"I'm sure," she smirked, "But seriously, you can't just grab people and force them to do your bidding, no matter how noble it is."

"Err...excuse me, are you going to get into the lift?" Someone from within the lift asked, holding open the door.

"Of course," Draco said, ushering Hermione towards the elevator. "Ladies first."

There were a few romantic sighs about _young love_ from within the lift which made Hermione shake her head in annoyance at the smirking Malfoy.

* * *

Reaching the second floor, Hermione and Draco stepped aside to wait for Marie. 

"Scared yet?" Draco wondered teasingly.

"Not yet," Hermione admitted, "but I will be soon."

"Don't worry; I'll make sure no one will shove you off," Draco offered with a grin. Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"You want to do it yourself, then?" She wondered. Draco smiled.

"You know me so well."

"Nah, you're just predictable," Hermione decided, waving off his mock astonishment.

"Oh, and you aren't? On any given day at Hogwarts I know exactly where you'll be. Classes, library, classes, great hall, library, Gryffindor common room," Draco assessed quickly. Hermione glanced at him in shock.

"I _would_ say that it isn't so impressive, but given your penchant for self-absorption I must say I'm quite surprised."

Draco found that he too was rather surprised

* * *

"Damn, she's here," Draco whined, cocking his head towards the approaching redhead, "Do we _have_ to go to her?" 

"Yes!" Hermione said, though her voice lacked the conviction she had aimed for. Draco groaned loudly.

"Let's go," he said whispered, grabbing hold of Hermione's arm and dissolving with her into the crowds. Marie blinked for a second, as if unsure as to where the duo had gone. Hermione felt her face flame nervously but it didn't stop her from following Draco as he made his way towards the staircase.

"Ok, so we go up another floor, and walk the next two," Draco said, glancing at the tickets and then the floor plan. Catching sight of an open lift, he propelled Hermione towards it and quickly shut the door before anyone else could get into it. Shocked by their luck, Hermione turned towards Malfoy, her face deadly serious.

"Is this weird for you?" She asked. Draco stared at her curiously.

"What—riding with you in an elevator?"

"No—being in Paris, without a wand, without magic, away from everything you know. I mean, are there some things that you do at home that you do here or what?" Malfoy shrugged noncommittally.

"I don't do the same things as any other _normal_ wizard at home anyway," he said, his voice slightly hesitant, "but no—there's absolutely nothing I do here, and at home."

"What about vice-versa?"

"Definitely not."

"But you still eat and sleep and stuff—so technically you do," Hermione smirked teasingly.

"Hermione, shut up." he said smirking.

"Aha! No 'gentleman' would ever say that!" Hermione grinned, quoting Draco's earlier speech.

"Ah, but there are exceptions," he smiled.

"Like?" Hermione prompted.

"Like when the lady in question is asking, or informing me of stupid, pointless things."

Hermione laughed out loud as the door opened and more people stepped on. _I knew we wouldn't be so lucky, _Hermione thought to herself as she was squished to the back by some overzealous riders. The lift slowly got more and more crowded, and eventually, Hermione and Draco were in a rather odd position. Somehow, Draco had managed to be facing Hermione, and was only an inch or so apart. Not sure what to grab onto, he put his hands slightly above Hermione's shoulders, supported by the glass. Hermione, slightly embarrassed to be so close to Draco, squirmed around and although her body was close to his, her face turned away to the side, so she didn't have to see his smirking face.

"Watch out Hermione—looking too closely at this brilliance may blind you," Draco smirked. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Just like Medusa," Hermione commented and Draco snorted. "You know Draco, just when I begin to actually _like_ you; you start to play up your ego!"

"You like me Hermione?" Draco asked curiously. Hermione laughed.

"Not any more."

"Why not?" he asked, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Because," Hermione started, not actually entirely sure why she was annoyed at Draco, other than him thinking he was 'the best in the world'.

And the fact that he was basically standing on top of her.

"You're uncomfortable?" Draco guessed. "Tell me Hermione, have you ever even had a serious boyfriend?"

"Viktor Krum," Hermione admitted slowly but Draco shook his head.

"That's it?" Draco took Hermione's silence for an affirmation. "How come Potty or Weasel haven't made a pass at you yet?"

"Excuse me!" Hermione said in offense, willing the elevator door to open.

It didn't.

"What?" Draco said, innocently "Just wanted to know!"

"Well for your information, we're just _friends_!"

"What a load of crap," Draco mumbled in disbelief.

"Oh please, explain. I'm sure I'll _love _to hear this one," Hermione mumbled sarcastically.

"Well, I reckon that at some point, when a girl and a guy are just friends there comes a point when one or both will want to be _more_ than just friends."

"So you're saying that two people of the opposite sex can't just be friends? That it's all about sex?" Hermione wondered incredulously.

"Say that again." Draco demanded.

"Huh?"

"Say it again."

"Which bit?"

"The last bit!"

"It's all about sex?" Hermione repeated in confusion. Draco grinned devilishly.

"Say it again."

"It's all about sex? Honestly Draco, what are you trying to get from this?" Hermione demanded.

"Again." Draco commanded, his face leaning closer to Hermione's. She rolled her eyes.

"Pervert."

"Prude."

Hermione was about to shoot back another insult when the elevator door opened with the ritual _ping_ and passengers began stepping off.

Following everyone else's lead, Hermione darted out of the elevator and practically raced the next two flights up, while Draco trailed far behind.

Unfortunately, he was faster than he looked.

"We went all the way up for this?"

"Only _you _would say that," Hermione noted exasperatingly. "I think it's stunning!"

Looking out over the view, Hermione had to catch her breath (though whether it was from the view or the run, Hermione couldn't quite tell). It was an amazing look at the city and Hermione found herself enjoying the peace and quiet of the city from a bird's eye view.

"I'm only joking," Draco whispered, leaning closer, "it's beautiful."

Hermione stepped back. He was too close for comfort—_again. _Sighing, Hermione walked around the circular room, located at the very peak of the Eiffel tower. On the walls where there weren't windows, there were maps, showing the various building below them, and describing what they were, and used for. Scanning it, Hermione couldn't believe that she was actually standing up here.

"Can we go now?" Draco whined after barely a minute had passed.

"Wait! We need to take a picture!" Hermione said, taking out the camera from her bag. "Ask someone to take it for us"

"Hey," Draco said, shoving the camera into someone's hand, "can you take a picture for us? Thanks."

"Get closer together, I can't fit you both in," the guy coached, wiggling his hand for them to get closer together.

Sighing, Hermione edged slowly closer to Draco who did the same.

"Don't try anything," she hissed at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he muttered back.

"Smile!"

_Flash_

Hermione shoved Draco's arm off her shoulder as the camera flashed brightly.

"I thought I said not to try anything," Hermione snapped, glaring sharply at him. Draco shrugged.

"Must have slipped…."

* * *

"Marie, you have _no _idea how happy I am to see you!" Hermione cried, racing towards the redhead with renewed enthusiasm. Even as she did it, Hermione felt bad though. It wasn't so much that she was happy to see _Marie, _but rather more about having an alibi for Draco's oddly amorous habits. 

"Oh my god, I've been trying to find you guys for _ages_! Where have you _been_?" Marie cried, barely pausing to hug Hermione before turning and clamping on to Draco's wrist with a grip that made it clear they would _not _be separated again.

"On the Eiffel Tower," Draco replied flatly, his gaze sliding towards Hermione who seemed determined to keep her eyes trained on Marie.

"Oh Draco, you're so funny!" Marie giggled, batting lightly at his chest before flipping back her hair. Hermione watched in annoyance. _There should really be a law about that kind of flirting, _Hermione thought disgustedly. _It's just so desperate! _

"Did you guys like it?" Marie wondered aloud as the conversation seemed to be on hold.

"Oh yes!" Hermione gushed, "It's so amazing up there! I could have watched the city for hours!"

"Yeah, it was great," Draco confirmed, though considerably less-enthused than his bushy-haired counterpart. "So, where to next?"

"Off to the Louvre I suppose," Hermione said, glancing at the schedule she had made that morning. "But maybe we could stop and get some lunch first since we'll be walking for a while."

"Yeah I'm starving," Draco agreed, rubbing his stomach for extra effect. Marie perked up.

"We could go to Starbucks or something," Marie suggested, glancing hopefully towards Draco for some kind of approval.

"Yeah sure," he mumbled back, pausing to grab Hermione. "What's that?" He wanted to know.

"Coffee shop," she whispered back. He nodded.

"Oh right, well let's go then."

* * *

"Mmmm," Hermione sighed contentedly, breathing in the air of her coffee to-go. "It tastes so much nicer when it cold, don't you think?" 

"Definitely," Marie agreed, though her eyes were locked on Draco who looked bored.

"Is it far from here?" Draco wondered, tipping back his coffee with little relish. Hermione thought for a second.

"About two kilometers, I'm guessing," Hermione said thoughtfully as Marie charged on.

Marie had already decided that she would be joining them on this walk and Hermione was both happy and disappointed. On one hand she figured it was good to have a buffer between Draco and herself, but on the other hand, Hermione found herself frustrated to be competing for Draco's attention. _It isn't as if I'm jealous, _Hermione assured herself, curling her lip in distaste as Marie hugged Draco closer, _you just don't like seeing Marie make a fool of herself. _

Figuring that had to be it, Hermione savored another sip of her coffee before rushing to catch up with the pair.

* * *

"Oh my god, this is incredible," Hermione breathed, her voice only slightly above a whisper. 

_It damn well better be for the effort it took to get here, _Draco thought bitterly to himself, though even he was enchanted with some of the artwork surrounding them. Either Hermione's calculations had been grossly under calculated or the walk had been even more stressful with Marie hanging off of him, but either way, Draco had arrived at the Louvre even more exhausted than he had been after work the day before. The weather hadn't helped either, what with the chilly breezes but the unnerving warmth that seemed to confuse people. The entire walk it seemed that the trio had been dodging other travelers who were constantly bumping, pushing and crashing into them. _Or maybe it just felt that way because that's what Marie kept doing to me, _Draco thought wryly to himself, glancing at the redhead who had leeched herself to Draco's side.

Not for the first time, Draco was reminded of Pansy and her incessant need to be close to him at all costs—even if it meant tearing off a limb. Marie too seemed intent on this and every time he showed any signs of movement, she held him tighter, gripping his wrist so firmly it was a wonder it didn't break. She had even tried to follow him (unsuccessfully, thank god) into the bathroom where he had ducked for a moment alone before daring to go back out and into Marie's clutches.

Even without Marie however, Draco was positive that the journey would have been a bear. Not only was he not thrilled being among the various tourists, pushing and shoving to get to all the latest attractions, but Draco was annoyed by the fact that he was completely clueless about the entire city. It seemed that every corner he turned there was something that confused him and he hated having to hiss various questions at Hermione about every little thing. The only saving grace in the whole thing was that Hermione didn't seem to be enjoying his misery and dutifully answered all his questions without batting an eye. No matter how stupid or frivolous it may have been, Hermione whispered back an answer and never made a big deal out of it.

It was quite….Gryffindor. And despite the horror that coursed through Malfoy at the thought of it, he was beginning to think that it wasn't so terrible after all.

Not that he would ever say it aloud.

"Draco—do you see that one? Isn't it amazing?" Hermione gushed, pointing at the millionth painting of the day. Draco glanced at it briefly and then nodded, though he feared if she pointed at one more he would faint. It was true that the artwork was amazing, but between all the people swarming around them and Marie tugging on his arm, Draco was sure that the Louvre was the last place he wanted to be.

Still, Hermione seemed content to wander from gallery to gallery, her eyes dancing over familiar and alien works. Every so often she would stop and focus on a piece, her eyes lighting up. Currently, she was obsessing over a painting called, _The Lacemaker _by someone named Jan Vermeer. And while Draco acknowledged it was pretty, it definitely wasn't worth standing there with Marie hanging off of him.

"I see it—just like I saw the last million. Honestly Granger—I mean _Hermione_—don't you think we've spent enough time here?" Draco groaned. Hermione pouted but Marie, who had been fiddling with her silver compact, perked up.

"I agree with Draco. We should go and do something else." Hermione groaned—she should have known that beautiful art wouldn't exactly be Marie's cup of tea.

"I've barely seen anything though—there are still so many rooms to go to!" Hermione argued.

"I think you've seen more than enough by now," Draco mumbled and Hermione frowned.

"_You _can go if you want. I want to stay here," Hermione suggested. Draco scowled at her as Marie jumped up excitedly.

"I think that's a great idea, Hermione! We can all catch up later!" She squealed excitedly. Draco however shook his head.

"I'm not leaving you here alone," Draco said flatly, to Hermione's annoyance. _Honestly, it isn't as if I'm completely worthless. He doesn't have to baby-sit me twenty four-seven. _

"I hardly think this constitutes as alone," Hermione pointed out, gesturing towards the masses of people milling around her. Draco scoffed, obviously unimpressed.

"You know what I mean. I don't want to leave you with all these strangers."

"I'm not a baby," Hermione defended lamely. Draco looked unconvinced.

"You wouldn't know it by the way you're acting," he mumbled to himself. Hermione raised an eyebrow, unable to interpret his mumblings, but figuring it wasn't complimentary anyways.

"Go on. I'll be fine," Hermione assured him, turning her back on his to finish perusing some of the paintings. She could hear Draco groan behind her but didn't give him the satisfaction of looking his way.

"Come _on _Hermione—I'm getting hungry again," Draco whined, opting for the less-demanding route. _Maybe if I annoy her enough she'll agree with me_, Draco thought.

"Come home with me!" Hermione and Draco both paused in horror.

"What?" They yelled in unison, staring at Marie who was beaming at her suggestion.

"I said that Draco should come over to my place. I can cook for you!" Marie squealed, clapping her hands together like a small child. "I took the most _amazing _cooking class last summer and I never get to cook for _anyone_!" Draco sent a worried glance to Hermione who, although noticeably pale, just shrugged.

"I—I think Hermione was going to make me something tonight, right?" Draco stuttered, staring helplessly at Hermione. She looked to Marie, carefully avoiding Draco's gaze.

"Actually, no. I think it would be okay if you went to dinner with Marie," Hermione said softly, and as much as Draco wanted to kill her for condoning it, he couldn't help but notice the slight strain in her voice.

"What? Are you sure?" Draco choked out, his eyes jumping between Hermione and Marie.

_You owe her, _Hermione mouth and Draco sighed. Maybe one dinner wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Well?" Marie pressed, tugging on Draco's arm pleading. He sighed.

"Okay."

"Oh my god—you _won't _regret this! I can't wait! What sort of foods do you like? This is so exciting!"

Draco shot a glare at Hermione that clearly said that now _she _owed _him_.

_Great, _Hermione thought to herself, _being indebted to Draco Malfoy. This should be fun_.

Yet as horrifying as that prospect _was_, Hermione was surprised to find that she was also slightly intrigued by it as well.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Blah blah, dont own it!**

**A/N: Heyyy! Moi again...lol, of course it's me, who else would it be? Sorry about the appaloing French last time, sooo...my bad! Aaand other than that...review, review review!!! x**


	11. Dinner with Marie

**Dinner with Marie**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't own it...still**

* * *

Hermione sauntered around the gallery for a while, thoroughly enjoying herself. She knew why McGonagall had assigned the Louvre as one of the destinations—it had been in hopes that Draco would understand that Muggles were capable of creating extraordinary things as well as old, pureblooded families. Still, Hermione was beginning to think of it for her benefit as well. McGonagall would have known that Hermione would find the history and the art indescribable—and no doubt she had planned it for such. 

Hermione was slightly upset that Draco had left so quickly but there were other times when Hermione was rather glad he wasn't there. Some of the paintings were very—_erotic_—and Hermione would have been embarrassed to have Malfoy standing next to her. Not to mention having Marie giggling in the background. She smiled, glad that they weren't there.

Hermione laid her purse down and took a seat on the polished floor, staring ahead at one of the pictures ahead of her. She had never been a great artist, but she enjoyed sketching and had finally found the perfect picture to attempt to replicate. Head bent over her sketchpad, Hermione worked dutifully until she was finished. When she held it back though, she nearly fell over though—it looked more like Draco than it did of the man in the painting! Stuffing it into her pocket, Hermione decided she had had enough of the museum and decided now would be a good time to leave. She couldn't believe she had actually drawn him!

_Must have been all that coffee_….

Hermione walked outside, stepping back into the waning lights of the city. She knew that she had made a big fuss to Marie and Draco about being able to make her way back to the apartment herself, but she couldn't help the nagging in the back of her mind telling her to worry. She hadn't thought what it would be like having no one by her side and was surprised to find that she was slightly self-conscious about being alone. She was still relatively new to the city and at least with Draco she had someone else to talk to—someone else to blame if she got off course. Now all she had was herself.

Hailing a bright yellow cab, Hermione jumped into the back seat and muttered the address to the apartment building. Now at least she was off the street but her thoughts still drifted towards company. She wondered what Marie and Draco were up to—only to make sure that they weren't doing anything stupid, Hermione assured herself.

A few minutes later, Hermione was climbing out of the cab and walking into her apartment building, remembering at the last minute that she had forgotten to pick up any take out. _I guess I'll have to find something worthwhile in the apartment_, Hermione grumbled to herself, walking into the lobby of the building.

"Hello!" Hermione said to the deskman, who had helped her out on the first day. No matter how grouchy she was feeling, Hermione still remembered her manners.

"_Bonjour mademoiselle_! How are you?" The clerk smiled, stacking up a few papers while making conversation with her.

"Oh, I've had such an exhausting day! And it's so cold!" Hermione said.

"Oh I know," he began sympathetically, "On ze radio zey said it would snow!"

"What's it like here, when it snows?" Hermione wondered, genuinely curious. The man smiled.

"Oh it is even more beautiful than usual! Zey put up a magnificent ice-skating rink! And all ze people in Paris get even more drezzed up then usual—it's magic!"

"It certainly sounds like it," Hermione murmured to herself, a half smile on her face.

"Where is your boyfriend? I have a letter for him, and two for you!" Marc said, handing Hermione three letters. She paled.

"Boyfriend? Oh no, we're just," Hermione paused, not exactly sure what they were, "friends?"

"Oh my apologies! I had no idea!" Marc said.

"No it's fine, honestly." Hermione replied, taking the letters and walking towards the elevator. "I think I'm going to retire for the night though."

"Of course! And I must be getting back to work!"

"Thank you very much Marc," Hermione said. She was hesitant to leave—hesitant to return to the apartment all alone—but she knew she would have to face it eventually. So, with a sigh, Hermione passed through the lobby and started towards the elevator. Halfway up she smiled to herself.

At least she would have the bed.

* * *

Walking into the living room, Hermione collapsed onto the sofa. She was absolutely exhausted. She had been walking round all day, and her legs felt like they could fall off. Boy was she glad that she could finally relax! Closing her eyes, she thought about everything that happened today. It had been a good day, despite Marie's constant clinging to Malfoy. It wasn't only annoying, but it made Hermione...jealous?

Sighing, Hermione rolled off the sofa and walked over towards the bar. She wasn't much of drinker, but she figured a glass of whatever was there would help her unwind.

Opening a bottle of wine, she poured herself a glass, and took it back to the couch. Deciding that she didn't particularly like the silence in the apartment, Hermione took the controller for the stereo system, turned up the volume, and pressed play.

_BOOM_

"Argh!" Hermione screamed as the first chords of the song echoed loudly through the entire apartment, and possibly, the entire building.

Clutching her heart, Hermione shakily turned down the volume. Hermione put down her drink and tried to calm herself down while fully realizing the true meaning of 'surround sound'. The song kept playing in the background, and was just getting into the chorus, when there was a sudden knocking on the door.

Opening the door, Hermione smiled at Mr. Riley.

"Miss Granger, are you all right?" he asked, peering into the apartment, to see if anyone else was in there, "I thought I heard a bomb, and a scream coming from in here!"

"No!" Hermione smiled, her cheeks reddening, "It was just me getting familiar with the stereo."

Visibly relaxing, Mr. Riley shook his head at Hermione. "Well, forgive me for knocking then, and good evening!"

He was just about to turn around, when Hermione asked:

"Would you like a drink or anything?"

Turning around, he thought about it for a moment. Then he smiled, and took her up on her offer.

Sitting down on one of the kitchen counter stools, Hermione handed him a glass of the same wine she was drinking and, sitting opposite of him, he asked what they had done today.

Hermione told him all about the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre, and how Draco and Marie were now having dinner.

"Without you?" Mr. Riley asked, looking at Hermione, his wrinkled brow scrunched with concern, "So I take it that our dear Marie likes this, this Draco?"

"Yes, Draco Malfoy," Hermione nodded.

"Malfoy, did you say?" Mr. Riley asked, frowning slightly at the name. Hermione turned her head.

"Heard of him?" Hermione wondered.

"Err...no, maybe a long time ago, but not anymore," Mr. Riley said quickly, looking at Hermione in an interrogating manner, as if he could see right through her.

"Um—Mr. Riley," Hermione started nervously, "What—what's up with Marie?"

"So you've noticed," he said, sighing. "Well Marie—she, she's had a hard time."

"Oh," Hermione said slowly, surprised. She hadn't expected Marie to be anything more than a spoiled little rich girl. Who knew the girl had a history? "I didn't really know."

"Well, nobody expects you too!" Mr. Riley chuckled, "it's quite a story."

"Oh, please do tell!" Hermione gushed; now that she knew there was a reason behind Marie's personality, she was dying to hear it.

"Well, I don't think she appreciates me telling anyone, but I think it will help you understand her better. Just as long as you don't mention it to anyone else—Marie included."

"Of course not," Hermione said sincerely. She was eager to find out what this whole thing was leading up to.

"Well, Marie used to be—well, just like you actually. Smart, intelligent, and a _very_ independent woman. She could have gone anywhere she wanted to go, the world was hers for the taking." he paused, and Hermione blushed because of his pseudo-compliment.

"The trouble was that her parents never really appreciated exactly what, and _who,_ she_ was_. They didn't see her potential, and never praised her for her achievements. It was quite sad to see, how whenever she would succeed in something, her parents didn't recognize it, and often it was only _I _who ever commented on it. Her parents, in particular her father, wanted Marie to join the company, not because they could see her potential in helping us, but so that she could help her father out, if ever he needed anything, or didn't quite understand the system. So when Marie was offered a job, and she accepted it, she didn't know exactly how—high up her position actually was." He looked into the windows, as if somehow ashamed.

"She never intended to be 'more important' than her father, and when he found out that she higher up than he was, he was furious at Marie. I heard them the night she was appointed, and her father was shouting that she 'had disgraced the family name', by intentionally making her father seem lower than her. Marie, after years of being criticized, finally snapped. She decided that she could no longer be around her parents, and before leaving, she came to me." he smiled briefly at the memory.

"She told me, that she never understood why her parents never really gave her any praise, or attention, and she was absolutely terrified of seeing them again. She told me, that she loved them, and never wanted to upset them, and so she had to give up her position at the bank, because she felt that that was the only way to please them. She left for a few days, to god only knows where, but I can tell you, no-one ever thought, that just because she wanted, and needed her parents love, and guidance, she would return to Paris as the person who she is now. I never tell her how I want her too return to whom she was. I know, that the day Marie decides to change back to her old self, is the day her parents leave the company." he sighed, and shook his head in disappointment. Hermione stared at him avidly, eager for him to continue.

"She knows that _every single day_, she is making her parents regret how they never loved her. Out of regret, and guilty conscience, her father begged her to accept the lowly job of secretary, so that's why she's here today. And I don't think I could ever hold her past against her," Mr. Riley finished, taking a large sip of wine.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, digesting all of this, "I never—I never knew!" she suddenly felt really bad about how critical and had been of the girl. She could now see where she was coming from, but she couldn't believe she used to once be _normal._ And how could the Marie Hermione knew, just be an—an _act_! She was a web of lies, but in the centre, Hermione was determined to see the truth about Marie.

"And—will she ever, you know—come _back_?" she asked.

"Marie has hidden behind her 'new' personality too long to ever _really_ go back to the girl I once knew," he sighed. Hermione could tell he felt partially responsible to what had happened to her, but in her opinion, he wasn't in the slightest. "The best way to go about it is to pretend I never told you, and just try to think of Marie, as the same way she always was. But with an ounce more respect than before." he added, looking at Hermione seriously.

"Of course," Hermione muttered.

"Well, whenever you're ready to start working with Pierre, please tell me as soon as you can, because I know," he paused, winking, "he's very keen to get started!"

Smiling broadly, Hermione nodded her head.

"I have to be going, it has been a long night for me!" he said, slowly standing up, and shaking Hermione's hand in a very professional manner.

"Miss Granger," he said, when they were both standing at the door. "I trust you not to abuse the truth. Goodnight."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

_Wonder what they're doing, _Hermione was still thinking, twenty minutes later. Even with the new insight to Marie, she couldn't help feeling slightly jealous that they were together—alone. _If Marie gets her way, they'll probably be making out right now..._

Hermione sighed enviously.

_What is wrong with you_, Hermione asked herself in frustration, _when he's around you hate him and when he's gone you miss him—you have to be batty! _Still, she couldn't seem to get Draco off her mind. Earlier—at the Eiffel Tower—he had been so sweet and almost…_nice_. It was a change but Hermione was oddly pleased.

Hermione had just decided to open up one of her letters when her phone started buzzing like crazy. She glanced at the ID—_it's Marie_, she thought to herself, _probably calling to tell me how many times they've made out_. Hermione ignored it.

Hermione stood, wondering what kind of books the apartment had. She thought she had seen a modest bookcase earlier and had intended to check it out when a million other things had occupied her mind. Now though seemed like the best time to take a peek.

Before Hermione even reached the bookcase, her phone started ringing again.

_God, as if she doesn't have any other friends, _Hermione groaned then immediately felt bad. _Maybe she doesn't have any other friends. She's cheery enough, but maybe the thing Mr. Riley was talking about was harder for her than she let on_.

Muttering about her own indecision, Hermione picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hermione, thank god you picked up! Draco's been poisoned!"

"_What_?" Hermione exploded, all sympathy towards Marie gone. Draco would _never _get poisoned with her around! "What—how did this happen?"

"It was my food," she sniffed into the phone, "it must have been bad or something."

"Of course it was bad!" Hermione found herself shrieking.

"I'm so sorry Mione!" Marie sobbed.

"Calm down," Hermione snapped, "and get over here as soon as you can!"

"I'm almost there," Marie assured her.

Without bothering to reply, Hermione hung up.

* * *

Five minutes later the door exploded open, and Marie, who was struggling to keep Malfoy upright, stumbled into the apartment.

"Here," she said, passing off Draco's limp form to Hermione, and then collapsing on the floor.

Hermione took him into her arms, and tried to support him. She dragged him across the living room, trying to ignore Draco's muffled cries of agony.

Gently placing him on the bed, she looked at him.

His eyes were shut, and his face was contorted in pain. Sweat was dripping off his brow, and his hair was a mess. Every so often he would moan in pain, and clutch his stomach, begging for it to go away. His legs were limp and his arms askew. His hands were curled into fists, the knuckles a deathly white color. Hermione had never seen Draco Malfoy so vulnerable.

She wasn't entirely sure what to do either.

Marie, who had now also entered the bedroom, gasped, and clapped a hand to her mouth. Hermione, glancing at her solemnly, gestured for her to come closer.

"Marie, I need you to get a few things for me," Hermione said assertively, trying to relax Marie who was starting to panic, "You need to go to the nearest pharmacy and ask the person at the desk what you should get for a," Hermione wasn't sure what to call it, "a serious case of food poisoning. Also, buy a thermometer. Then come back as fast as you can, drop off the stuff, and use the laptop here and look up food poising, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, I will," Marie said seriously. She looked at Malfoy again, and she shook her head in despair, "I did this—I knew I couldn't cook, and now he's sick because of _me_!" she sobbed.

"Marie, no one blames you," Hermione said reassuringly, though in the back of her mind, she wasn't sure she really believed it.

"He isn't—he isn't going to, you know—?"

"I don't know, but you should go now," Hermione said quickly, waving for Marie to leave, which she did, running out of the bedroom.

Hermione leaned close to Draco who had fallen silent, though he was still sweating profusely. She mopped his brow gently.

"Please ... don't die."

* * *

A/N: Sorry my authors note was spelt wrong last time, I was in rush! Don't foget to review!!! Oh and, he had it coming fanfic awards are up again...so, don't forget to nominate! cioa! x 


	12. The Hospital

The Hospital 

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Disclaimer: I own nothing!

* * *

Hermione paced nervously, eager for Marie to return. 

She had done all she could and yet as Draco's condition continued to worsen, Hermione realized the only thing she could do was wait for Marie to come back. _Please let her get this right, _Hermione thought to herself, praying that she didn't pull a Marie-esque sort of stunt that involved her returning with the wrong things.

"Oh Draco, please don't die," Hermione hummed in what had become her mantra for the past half hour. She glanced at the clock. _Has it only been thirty minutes, _she wondered vaguely, one eye on the clock and one eye on Draco who was resting fitfully. _It feels like its been hours—days even. _

It wasn't just the thought that Draco was in danger that was getting Hermione so out of sorts, it was the fact that for the first time in her life, she honestly didn't know what to do. If she were at school she always had the option of running to Madame Pompfrey or another professor who could brew up some sort of recovery potion. _Hell, if I were at school, I would be able to brew some sort of recovery potion, _Hermione thought glumly. The thought did little to quell her nerves and in fact only made her feel more inadequate. _This is the reason McGonagall paired you up with Draco in the first place—so you could show him how to survive in the Muggle world! I can't believe you let him go to a stranger's house to eat—you practically forced him to go, _Hermione told herself, sinking miserably into a chair next to Draco. He had stopped moving, for the moment at least, but seemed to have broken out in another layer of cold sweat.

Jumping up, Hermione reached for the washcloth she had on hand and quickly began wiping the sweat from Draco's brow, wringing it out when necessary. When she had first thought to bring a bowl of water and a washcloth she had made sure the water was near boiling, but time had softened the heat and now it felt as clammy as Draco's own skin. _I don't suppose this is helping any, _Hermione thought, slopping the washcloth back into the basin. Water splashed out and caught her sleeve but Hermione found she didn't care.

She had far graver things to worry about.

Hermione stood over Draco's crumpled form and wracked her brain for a plausible solution. She knew there must have been medical information about the subject of food poisoning but without knowing exactly what had been ingested and the amount, Hermione wasn't sure if she would be able to find an appropriate cure. Still, she had to try. So, with one eye on Draco, Hermione carefully pulled her laptop over to her and began to type furiously into the search engine.

Hermione's attempts proved vastly unsuccessful. She came across numerous causes and too many symptoms to count, but actual at-home treatments seemed few and far between. The ones that _were _offered seemed a futile excuse too and seemed to focus primarily on how to treat mild discomfort, not an actual fever and other such serious offenses. _I don't want worthless at-home remedies, _she grouched to herself, _what I need is a doctor or a hospital. _The only problem was how exactly to approach that sort of treatment. Hermione and Draco were on their own and not entirely intimidating. Still, McGonagall had started the program to teach them life skills and Hermione could think of little else as important as learning how to take care of someone when they were quite possibly on the brink of death!

Without waiting for Marie to return, or even to stop and write an explanatory note, Hermione slid into her shoes and carefully hauled Draco out of bed and down into the lobby.

* * *

Hermione arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes later (with the help of a very elderly, very sympathetic cab driver) and was immediately overwhelmed. 

She had been to the hospital a few times as a child to visit her grandmother and found that she did not relish the experience any more than she had back then. It was too loud and bright and _clean_. As funny as Hermione felt thinking that, she couldn't help but make the distinction in her mind. There was the clean that she liked—the one that she was constantly trying to push on Harry and Ron for their rooms—and then there was the sanitized clean, as if the doctors and nurses were trying to cover something up. _Death probably, _Hermione thought darkly, but pushed the thought out of her mind as several nurses ran her way.

"He's really sick—I think its food poisoning!" Hermione said loudly as the nurses lifted Draco's limp form from Hermione's surprisingly-strong frame. They gently placed him in a wheelchair and carted him away before Hermione could say anything more on the subject. She watched him go, a strange, sinking feeling in her stomach as he disappeared down the long, white halls, and found herself suddenly accosted by another nurse—or was she a receptionist?—who was firing off questions a mile a minute.

"_Qui vous est_?" Hermione's brow wrinkled.

"I—I don't speak French," she said quickly, praying that the woman spoke at least a little English. "We're just visiting here and he got sick and I didn't know what else to do, so I brought him here, and then those women took him away—," Hermione broke off quickly, realizing that the woman was now smiling sympathetically at her.

"It's alright dear," the older woman said, wrapping a plump arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll bring you something to drink and then we'll get some of this nasty paperwork all sorted out, okay?"

Hermione nodded numbly, crumpling tiredly into a nearby chair. She hadn't realized how tired she was, or how sore her shoulder was from carrying Draco around all day, and the discomfort of the seat only worked to intensify her ache. _Come on Hermione, be strong, _she coached herself mentally, _Draco's in there on his death bed and you're complaining about a little achy shoulder. _

That thought worked to buck her up, at least momentarily, and she smiled gratefully when the older woman held out a cup of coffee.

"There you are Darling, that should make you feel better," the woman said soothingly, sitting down in the chair next to Hermione. She smiled, watching Hermione drain the contents of the cup in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," Hermione squeaked, rubbing her eyes with a newfound alertness. "I needed that."

"You're welcome. Now, I just need to ask you a few questions about the young man you brought in and that will be that."

"Okay," Hermione agreed softly, taking in a breath. The woman smiled cheerily and glanced quickly down at her clipboard.

"Name?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said automatically. The woman smiled.

"I meant the boy." Hermione felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"Oh, um, Draco Malfoy."

"Date of birth?" Hermione paused, wracking her brain for the answer. _Do I really not know when his birthday is, _she wondered vaguely. Even as enemies she would surely have thought she would have found out when he was born in the past seven years they had been going to school together.

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, abashed at her own lack of knowledge, "he's seventeen though."

"Okay. Do you know any of his medical history?" At that Hermione paled. She didn't know a _thing _about his medical history. As far as she knew he descended from a line of amnesiac hemophiliacs. There was no way she could supply an accurate account of his history.

"Um, there may be some mental illness," Hermione supplied feebly, figuring that general evilness could constitute some sort of mental derangement. The lady nodded, jotting Hermione's answer's down with surprising speed.

"And do you have any idea about how he may have contracted his illness?"

"Food," Hermione said quickly, "I don't know what kind or how much, but he was at a dinner party thing and he came home horribly sick."

"It's alright dear," the older woman said comfortingly, pulling Hermione close. Hermione was surprised to find that her eyes were stinging with tears as she was pulled into the woman's plump chest. _What if something happens to Draco? It will be all my fault, _Hermione thought miserably. _I was the one who forced him to eat with Marie and then I just let him lie there in bed and I didn't know what to do or anything and I just kept him there—I should have brought him to the hospital sooner! I should have known what to do_, Hermione continued, her tears falling with hot regularity. The woman—whose nametag, upon closer inspection, read _Sophie_—patted Hermione's back and for a moment reminded Hermione of her own mother who had used the same technique to comfort her on various occasions.

"What's your relation to him?"

Hermione paused, debating over how to answer this new question. If someone had asked her a week ago she would have answered _enemies _before the person could ever fully ask it. Now though, Hermione wasn't so sure. They were better to each other than they had been and that had to count for something. But then again, it wasn't as if they were the best of friends. He still drove Hermione crazy at times—_but he also makes you smile a lot more too_, Hermione reminded herself, thinking back to how pleasant and protective he had been during their sightseeing.

To say they were friends seemed awkward for Hermione. She had spent so much time hating him that it was hard to think of him as anything beyond repulsive. Still, the connection they had made was undeniable. At least they weren't at each other's throats—well, not all the time at least.

There was also the problem of hospital visiting policy that Hermione had to think about. It was common knowledge that the hospital never gave out information about a patient unless it was to a family member. Hermione thought briefly of Draco and his ridiculously fair coloring. With her own mousy looks it was safe to say no one would assume they were related by blood. Normally, this would have made Hermione jump up with joy, but as it was, her stomach seemed resigned to her feet where it had dropped upon entering the hospital and watching Draco be whisked away.

"Hermione—did you hear me?"

"What?" Hermione asked, turning to Sophie.

"I asked what your relation was to the boy you came in with," Sophie reiterated, sounding slightly put out at having to repeat herself several times. Hermione bit back her disgust and forced a weary smile.

"I'm his wife."

* * *

Had Hermione known that her lie about her nuptials would cause such a flurry of questions and sympathies, she surely would have rethought it. As it was, Sophie seemed even more concerned about Hermione's well being and showered her with a chorus of "you poor dear's" and "such young love!" It was enough to make anyone—married or not—cringe with disgust, but to Hermione, who shivered at the mere thought of being tied to Malfoy, regardless of whether it was pretend or not, it was almost enough to send her running for a trash can. 

"It's alright—I'm sure I'll be okay," Hermione assured Sophie for the millionth time. Upon hearing Hermione's declaration of marital bliss with Malfoy and the quick, somewhat clipped version of how they met and fell in love (Hermione went with the cliché "love at first sight" for lack of anything better), Sophie seemed intent to put Hermione's mind at ease.

"Nonsense—you shouldn't have to brave this alone. I'll go check with the doctor and see if you can go in yet. If not, I'm sure it will be soon." Hermione only nodded.

If truth be told, now that Hermione knew that Draco would be okay (Sophie had practically accosted the doctor trying to get the information out of him) she felt less concern for his general well being. He was in good hands, she knew, and the hospital was going to watch him through the night. It was a considerable weight lifted off of her shoulders and for that Hermione was grateful. Still, with Sophie watching her like a hawk, Hermione felt the need to at least act the part of fretful wife.

_Oh good lord, why did you say you were his wife, _Hermione wondered silently, berating herself for the slip of the tongue. _You could have said you were his cousin or his stepsister or half sister—anything but his wife! _It was true, Hermione knew and she felt slightly uncomfortable with the lie—almost as if it proved she was hopeful for something between them—but she took solace in the fact that it was the lie that had gotten her all the information about Draco's well being, which was what she really wanted in the first place. _The end justifies the means, _Hermione mused to herself, idly twirling a loose piece of her hair. She knew she must look awful—having dragged Draco through the house and the apartment building and then to and from a cab—but at the moment Hermione didn't care. Draco was okay and that was all that mattered.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

Hermione jumped, glancing around quickly for Narcissa. She had never really met Draco's mother but from what she had heard, Narcissa Malfoy was not the sort of woman who you wanted to cross. Having her in Paris—in a _Muggle _hospital no less—would definitely prove an interesting encounter.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

Hermione glanced around at the doctor, blushing slightly when she realized he was talking to her. She smiled.

"Yes?"

"Your husband is sleeping, but he's okay now. His fever broke and we pumped his stomach of the poison." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had known of course that Draco would be okay, but hearing it from the doctor made it all the more concrete.

"Thank you so much," Hermione gushed in one long, tired breath. "I don't know how to thank you!" The doctor just smiled demurely as if saving lives was part of the job description (which, Hermione realized, it _was_), and glanced behind him.

"You may go in and sit with him if you wish. He's sleeping now, but I know how worried you must have been."

Hermione paused, debating over this. Surely a wife _would _want to go see her ailing "husband", even if Hermione didn't feel particularly amorous towards Draco. And she had to keep up appearances of course. Hermione sighed.

"Of course, which room is he in?" She found herself asking, having stood from her chair to follow the doctor who pointed her down the hall.

"Third door on your right." Hermione smiled.

"Thank you."

Hermione walked slowly into the hospital room, careful not to wake Draco.

He looked so peaceful, all curled up in the tidy metal bed. He didn't look terribly comfortable, with only the thin hospital sheet, and he was hooked up to a million beeping machines, but he was sleeping soundly. Hermione sauntered over to the bedside, her curiosity grabbing hold of her, and began peering inquisitively at the machines. There were some to monitor his heart rate and some to measure his blood pressure, and an IV feeding fluids into his arm. All of it looked so complex and Hermione ached to see how everything worked. Still, not wanting to wake Draco up, Hermione kept her distance—albeit small—and looked from afar.

To the nurses, peering in from the doorway, it was a watch of devotion from a young wife over her equally youthful husband. To the doctor, who happened to walk by, it was a look of love and protection. And to Sophie, who had left the front desk to check in on Hermione, it was the most adorable thing she had ever seen.

Hermione, oblivious to her audience, tore her gaze from the machines long enough to focus on Draco who had curled into a tiny ball to escape the cold. The sheet was really useless and even from where she stood Hermione could tell he was shivering. He looked so small and helpless laying there that Hermione couldn't help herself and soon found her arm reaching over to adjust the blanket so that it covered him more. It was just her luck that at the exact moment she moved to pull the sheet over him, the doctor walked in, startling her so much that she practically yanked the entire blanket from him.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, her voice strained. The doctor smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry for interrupting Mrs. Malfoy, I just wanted to tell you that your husband's blood tests came back and he should be fine. We want to keep him overnight for observation but by morning he'll be free to go." Hermione nodded, mutely accepting this.

"Thank you," she said finally when the doctor seemed to be waiting for it. With a smile and a nod, he was gone.

Hermione turned back to Draco and was startled to find him awake and smirking at her. Hermione blushed furiously, wondering how much of the dialogue he had heard. He blinked a few times, as if trying to acquaint himself with the surroundings before falling back against the pillow tiredly. Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief—_it must have been a false alarm_—before sitting in a chair kitty corner to the bed. She was just about to pick up one of the books by the bedside table when Draco's signature drawl rang out across the room.

"'Mrs. Malfoy', eh? Pretty lofty aspirations, don't you think, Granger?"

Hermione groaned, wondering if she would ever live this one down.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter was uploaded and written by me (pink-levicorpus) because mina is in Switzerland and we were both a little stumped on what to do for this chapter. Anyway, that explains why the writing style may seem a little different. Anyway, I hope everyone liked it and I can assure you that soon mina1011 will be back and we'll get the next chapter out quickly, although we did want to post this one for Christmas. 

I hope you all enjoyed it! I know mina would love to come back to some reviews though, it would make a beautiful Christmas gift (and a great birthday gift for me!). Thank you all for your patience!


	13. A Night Out

**A Night Out**

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Disclaimer: Don't own it!

* * *

"Why did you have to hear that?" 

Hermione wondered, groaning into her hands. She knew Malfoy would _never _let her forget this one. _Why? _She thought in exasperation, slowly turning to face the smirking—yet slightly grimacing—Malfoy. He was clutching his stomach in pain yet he still managed to pull off the cocky, holier-than-thou attitude, which only worked to infuriate Hermione more. Still, Hermione told herself, _the boy is clearly in pain and I should let him get away with this one. _Not to mention the fact that they were supposed to be _acting _married.

"It was the only way they would tell me any information," Hermione explained tiredly. Malfoy smiled wider.

"And you were _so _concerned for my well being that you felt the need to spin this elaborate ruse in order to see me?" Draco asked, his smirk faltering for a moment as another wave of pain washed over him. When it passed, he looked back at Hermione, his eyebrows raised. "Or is it just your dream come true to claim association with the Malfoy lineage?" Hermione scoffed openly.

"Oh _please_," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "like I would want to associate myself with _that_. I merely wanted to make sure you were alright." Draco raised his eyebrows again in curiosity.

"Oh yes, how could I forget, if I were to die, that would jeopardize your grades," he noted finally, laughing bitterly. Hermione shook her head violently.

"No! I want you to get better because ... I ...," Hermione broke off suddenly, her voice reduced to a stammer.

"What?" Draco demanded quickly, his eyes wide open. "Tell me!"

"Nothing," Hermione grinned, knowing this would only annoy him further. Draco struggled to sit up straighter.

"Tell me," whispered slowly, though his voice was full of command.

Hermione and Draco glanced quickly to the doorway as one of the younger nurses stepped in. She glanced between the pair nervously, as if wondering whether or not to intrude in on the lover's spat. Sensing her distress, Hermione stood up and planted a chaste kiss on Malfoy's cool forehead.

"Oh come on now Darling," she began brightly, "don't get yourself all worked up now."

Sighing with the relief that she wasn't witnessing a fight, the nurse stepped in and handed a cup over to Hermione.

"He needs to swallow these," she instructed as Hermione placed the cup on his bedside table. The nurse followed suit with a glass of water and smiled, as if waiting.

"Hermione darling," Draco said after a moment of awkward silence in which the nurse continued to stare patiently, "could you give them to me? I just can't seem to reach them."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, glaring at him.

"Of course Drakie," she bit out through clenched teeth, stressing the pet name. Still, she reached across the bed, took the pills, and shoved them in Draco's hand, followed quickly by the glass of water.

Feigning pain, Draco asked Hermione if she would feed the pills to him. Her eyes narrowed as he smirked at her. The nurse watched this little show with confusion. Roughly forcing the pills down his throat, she handed him the water, deliberately spilling half of it on his bed.

"I am not your slave," she hissed icily into his ear.

"What was that, wife?" he called loudly.

"I love you," Hermione snarled unconvincingly.

"Really?" Draco asked, a genuine grin spreading across his face.

"Only if you do," she retaliated.

"Of course I love you sweetie!" Draco gushed, grabbing her hand, and looking at her in the eyes. "I can't wait till we get a little privacy, so I can do that thing I know you love," he said, licking his lips, and looking at Hermione in a hungry way.

The nurse's eyes widened at his blatant remark. She had no idea the exchange that was going on behind all of the 'romantic comments'.

"Would you mind?" Draco asked courteously as the nurse raced to exit the room. Hermione watched her leave, aching to call her back. When she was really gone though, Hermione turned back to Draco.

"Why do you have abuse every situation?"

"You're the one that came and kissed me!" Draco claimed innocently.

"_Kissed _you? That was _hardly _a kiss—it was more of a, _peck_," Hermione corrected quickly.

"_Sure _Hermione," Draco drawled, smirking at her embarrassment. "Do you know when I can leave here?"

"You have to stay the night," Hermione replied, "so I guess you can leave tomorrow."

"Are you going to stay here?" he asked.

Hermione had been thinking about it.

Although she would prefer to go back to the apartment, and sleep on the comfortable bed, she knew it was her obligation, as partner, and as so called 'wife', to stay with him.

"Well, I think I will," she said, looking at him with concern.

Draco looked at her, as if he had just been stunned. He had never received any sort of gesture of care, or love, other than odd moments with his mother, if his father had just shouted at one of the two. He could not believe that the girl he had loathed for so long was offering to come and look after him. It hadn't even been more than a week since coming to Paris! He was completely startled.

"Would you really do that for me?" he asked softly. Hermione looked up at him, and felt a sudden sense responsibility towards him. He looked so vulnerable lying in the bed, and her heart swelled.

"Of course I would," Hermione said softly realizing that for the first time, she actually meant it.

* * *

Hermione was sleeping in a very odd position. 

It was the first thing Draco had noticed upon awakening and he was finding it hard to ignore. He had woken up at one in the morning, because Hermione successfully—albeit unknowingly—dragged Draco's blanket off of him. He was shivering with cold, and was about to snatch the blanket from Hermione when her odd position and the odd reality of the entire situation hit him. There she was, his sworn rival, lying half on the chair the nurses had provided her, and half on the side of his bed. Hermione's back curved in an arc, and Draco knew that when she awoke, she would pay the price of sleeping in such an foolish position.

Reaching out, Draco found himself lightly stroking Hermione's frazzled hair. She smiled prettily in her sleep and snuggled closer to Draco's chest, which both surprised and amused him. He had been shocked when she had opted to remain with him through the night and was now surprised again as she drew closer. She smelled good, Draco realized suddenly, catching a whiff of her mass of hair. Smiling, Draco pulled her closer. He frowned. _What am I doing, _he wondered. _Who would have thought that I, Draco Malfoy, would be sharing a hospital bed with a Gryffindor? _Draco smiled.

_Must be the medicine. _

* * *

Hermione stretched out, and was immediately humbled by the pain shooting through her back. 

Groaning, Hermione stood and turned her attention to Draco who looked infinitely better already. His coloring had returned (granted, it had never been all that impressive to begin with) and his forehead was once again cool. Even his breathing had returned to normal and he didn't look so pained as he had a few hours earlier. Smiling, Hermione took a relieved breath and went to sit back down in the chair. She hadn't been down for a minute when Marie bounded in.

"Hermione!" she squealed, "when I got back you weren't there, and I checked your calls, and I saw you phoned the hospital!" Marie's face was bright red, and it looked as if she had been crying all night. "By the time I got here they told me visiting hours were over, so I came as early as I could"

Hermione genuinely felt sorry for her, and when she looked into her eyes, she could clearly see the fear that had been gnawing at her all night. Reaching out, Hermione pulled Marie into a tight hug. Her whole body was shaking and Hermione tried to convince her that it wasn't her fault, although she felt the slightest pang of annoyance at how ignorant Marie had been with her cooking. However, Hermione was not a Gryffindor merely for show and so was inclined to forgive her the moment she had started crying and apologizing.

Draco however, was not so sympathetic.

"How could you do this to me, you stupid—,"

"Draco I'm so sorry!" Marie squealed, running over to his bedside and pushing Hermione aside in the process. "I don't know how I'll ever make it up too you, but I'll do anything—really, _anything_—to make you feel better," she added, trying to sound seductive.

Draco looked at her with utter disgust, and gave Hermione a look which plainly told her: get Marie the hell out of here.

"Marie, I'm sorry, but me and Draco have an appointment with the doctors to see if he can leave today, so if you would be kind enough to, you know, to leave?" she added, slightly pleadingly.

"Okay," Marie said slowly, though she didn't sound too happy, "do you think you guys will be going out tonight? It is Friday and all."

"We'll see how Draco is feeling," Hermione assured her, giving Draco a warning look. "Bye Marie," she added encouragingly.

"Ok, hope to see you guys soon!" Marie called, but she was already out of the room.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_This has certainly been a most interesting week. I cannot believe how foolish I was to actually agree to eat with that stupid Muggle. She (Marie) successfully managed to poison me, which is rather strange for a girl who so blatantly worships me. Not what I would call a very flirtatious act, eh? Well anyway, I had to be rushed to hospital by Hermione. Hah! You should have seen how concerned she looked! That was definitely the best bit of this whole ordeal. The rest... was just painful. They had to pump my stomach, so that was a fantastic experience to the Muggle world. Well, I'm feeling much better, and I hope tonight we are 'going to go out'. Hopefully that includes getting totally drunk._

_Draco._

_p.s. I have now only worked once in five days. Go me! I know Jacque will be annoyed._

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_This has been a catastrophic day! Argh, Draco got poisoned, and I spent the whole night in the hospital with him, under the name of "Mrs. Malfoy"! How humiliating?! He keeps rubbing it in my face too—I don't think he'll ever let me forget! But the annoying thing is that he's acting perfectly fine! Why couldn't he just be sick all day, and leave me alone? But no, now he's forcing me to go out with Marie, the very person who poisoned him. Why can't the Muggle world just be as simple as the wizarding one? But you know the crazy thing is...well, I don't know...I think, I might..._

_xx Hermione_

* * *

"Hermione, I don't think you should have any more drinks," Draco cautioned, slightly annoyed at the girl's drunkenness. 

"But Draco," she pouted, "I'm a big girl now". She swayed slightly, and almost collapsed onto Draco, before he took her by the waist, and put her on a chair. He looked embarrassed at the friends who were surrounding the table, chatting happily, and all slightly tipsy, but none as bad as Hermione.

"You know Draco," she hiccupped, "I think I like you a lot!" she exclaimed.

Draco, who was slightly startled, looked at Hermione who was now pouting slightly at having been denied her latest drink. She stumbled towards him, and put a clumsy hand on his cheek, stroking him softly. She breathed heavily, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath. Her eyes were slightly blurred, and she smiled lopsidedly at him.

"You know—I think we should get together," Hermione suggested, her voice low. Hermione felt herself leaning forward, urged on by the alcohol and her own desire, as she tried to plant a kiss on Draco's mouth. He watched her with wide eyes, turning away at the last second.

"Stop it Mudblood," he spat suddenly, "I could never like you". Slightly shocked by his own words, Draco stared at her, with a cruel intensity.

Hermione sat up straight. She was rather tipsy but not nearly as much as Draco assumed and his cutting words were quick to draw her from her alcohol-induced giddiness. She looked at Draco, her eyes shimmering with tears. Her lip wavered, and she sniffed.

"You were leading me on," she began, her voice cracking, "I thought you liked me too!"

Hermione looked away, clearly embarrassed by her actions. Draco swallowed thickly.

"I would never like you," he said through clenched teeth.

Hermione stood, regaining her composure. She had only had a few drinks and though she was a notorious lightweight, she didn't find it difficult to maintain an iota of dignity as she prepared to leave. Stepping sharply away from Draco, Hermione realized that the whole exchange had been witnessed by Marie and all her friends, the only recognizable one being Pierre. Draco watched her move away, obviously hurt, and immediately regretted what he had said. _Couldn't you have been nice to her for once, _he mentally chastised himself. _All she wanted to do was get to know you. _

"Fuck off Malfoy," Hermione whispered icily, though her tone lacked the cutting conviction she desired.

"Wait," he mumbled suddenly, reaching out to catch her arm and coax her back to the table. Hermione paused, staring at his outstretched hand and then his face.

"Don't wait up, I won't be back home," Hermione said sharply, handing over the keys. Draco blinked in surprise.

"Come on Hermione," he murmured "I wasn't—,"

"Let go of me," she whispered as a figure suddenly overshadowed her, and Hermione turned to see Pierre. He looked at her sweetly, taking her arm in his.

"Let's go," he whispered pleasantly.

Sneering slightly at Malfoy, she held her head up high, leaving the stuttering Malfoy alone, and walking hand in hand, with Pierre.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hey all! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! First of all, I got 40 reviews last chapter, which is the most I've ever gotten on 1 go, so thanks **SOO **much too all the people who reviewed, _the more I get, the quicker_ _I update_!!! (not bribing you or anything!)

Another few things...nominations are up at** Dangerous Liasons** (sp?) and even though it would be great if you nominated me, it's even better if you just check itout, and nominate other people, because it would be great to get a bigger community, so please do! The link is :  
http:// dangerous . rendezv0us . org / dla / awards . html (get rid of the spaces)

Last, and not least, I have started a new fic! It is called "**Man About Town**", and too be honest, it has not been very succesful! So I'm begging you, please check it out, and leave** review**! The link is :  
http:// www . fanfiction . net /s/ 3323014 / 1 / (get rid of the spaces!)

Love you _all_! xx  
mina1011


	14. Let the Games Begin

**Let the Games Begin

* * *

**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter**

* * *

Shit!" Malfoy said, peering out of the window, running his hand through his hair.

"Dude, chill out" one guy said, "Pierre's not going to do anything to her."

And then, as if to confirm his credibility, the guy stuck out his hand in greeting, "Benjamin Wright," he said by way of introduction. "Quite possibly the only English guy living here." Draco laughed absently and stuck out his own hand.

"Draco Malfoy," he returned, glancing out of the window in the hopes of seeing Hermione.

"Listen," Benjamin said, continuing with his spiel, "I heard you guys talking before. She obviously likes you, and you obviously care for her."

"No I don't," Draco said automatically though his voice lacked the necessary conviction. Benjamin merely laughed as if this was an obvious lie.

"Then why do you care about where she is?"

"She's my responsibility," Draco retorted, finding this a strange way to claim her. It was true though—he _was _supposed to watch out for her, even if she insisted on being petulant. Draco sighed. "I couldn't love her anyway, we're of different blood."

"Oh let me guess, she's not good enough for you?" Benjamin wondered sarcastically, his eyebrows raised. Draco nodded, the irony lost on him.

"The whole 'blood' issue is a thing of the past, like with Romeo and Juliet, you know what I mean?" Benjamin said. "I would just go home for now and I guarantee that she'll stroll in tomorrow morning as if nothing ever happened. That's women for you!"

Nodding, even though he didn't know any of what Benjamin was referring to with all of his _Rome and Juliet _talk, Draco stood up to face the crestfallen Marie, who was quite literally, clinging on to him, and begging him to stay. Looking at her, his eyes hardened.

"Sorry, but I have to work tomorrow," Draco excused sharply, trying to pull himself out of her grasp. Marie looked distressed.

"On a _Saturday_?" Marie moaned as if the entire idea was foreign to her. Draco nodded, forcibly removing his sleeve from Marie's grasping hands.

"Yes," he spat icily, "some of us have to work to survive, and not get everything shoved on a silver platter by our parents."

As he left, Draco found that he was laughing on the inside. Because after all, what he had just said was a complete and total lie. He _didn't _have to work for a living and as much as it scared him, he had much more in common with Marie than Hermione. In fact, what he had just said was exactly the kind of thing Hermione said to him! He sighed.

She was rubbing off on him.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"Thanks Pierre," Hermione murmured. She was lounging on his expensive couch, staring out at the city, a warm fire roaring in front of her. This, Hermione decided, was the ultimate way to enjoy Paris. "Your apartment's amazing."

Pierre smiled, handing Hermione a warm cup of tea and taking the seat next to her on the couch. He leaned back into the seat, casually draping his arm around Hermione's shoulders. In all of her excitement though, Hermione barely noticed. Her head was still buzzing from the earlier events of the evening and Hermione probably wouldn't have noticed if Pierre had draped his entire body across her own.

Pierre however, failed to notice her disinterest and leaned closer.

"Thank you," he murmured softly, "I quite like it myself."

"Hey," Hermione said brightly, turning to face him and finding her face unnervingly close to Pierre's, "thanks for letting me stay here. I don't think I could go back and face _him_ tonight."

"Draco's not a bad guy" Pierre said sympathetically, though his voice lacked the necessary conviction, "but I understand that you don't want to be with him tonight."

Hermione nodded, glad to have his support.

"So," she asked after a moment of silence, "what do you want to do?"

"Hermione," Pierre began huskily, leaning in so that his face was inches from her own, "I want to do this." He punctuated his statement by leaning in to Hermione. Paralyzed by the fear of ruining her friendship with Pierre and adding to a horrifically-embarrassing evening, Hermione did the only thing she could think of and turned away.

For a minute Pierre sat, stupefied. What he thought to be Hermione's face had turned into a mass of her wild brown mane and the only thing he could think to do was lean forward and pick up the remote off of the coffee table.

"How about we watch something?" Pierre suggested quickly. Hermione sighed, relieved at being let off the hook this time. She certainly _liked _Pierre well enough, but not in _that _way. She had never even entertained remotely romantic notions regarding the man next to her. Still, clinging to the pretense of normalcy, Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and snuggled in to the boy beside her.

"Oh cool—there was a documentary I had heard about that I wanted to check out."

Pierre smiled briefly, and then turned to face the film that was playing on the screen, his face showing all of the disappointment he felt.

* * *

Draco stormed back into the apartment, furious for reasons he could not quite understand. 

After all, it wasn't as if he actually _liked _the little Mudblood, did he? It was a crazy notion indeed and Draco found that he didn't particularly like the little thrill of—love? Hate?—that bubbled in the pit of his stomach when he thought of her.

And even if Draco _didn't _have feelings for her, which was exactly what he had tried to convince himself of for the past few hours, what plausible reason was there for him to feel so furious at her? Was it the fact that Hermione had blurted out her feelings for him, or was it that she had blurted them out while drunk, therefore tainting her credibility?

Draco knew he had crossed the line earlier too and had clearly gone too far with his comments. He had known she would be saddened by his comments too—perhaps that was why he had said them in the first place—but Draco had never been prepared for the way her eyes had flooded with absolute horror and sorrow. It was as if he had lodged a knife into her heart and had continued to twist until there was nothing left.

Perhaps the most upsetting thing to Draco however was the fact that by saying that he "would never like her"—the four words that would haunt him forever—he had single-handedly ruined all chance at ever being with her. Even if it wasn't something he necessarily wanted—at least he didn't _think _he wanted that—it was something that would lurk in the depths of every civil conversation they would ever have.

So now he had a dilemma.

If he was to act too sorry then she would know he liked her more than he was willing to admit; even to himself. And that would never do, because he had a reputation to maintain. But the other problem was, _he did like her._ So he couldn't be too mean in case that meant they would _never _get together.

Running his fingers through his hair, Draco went to pour himself a large glass of whiskey. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The next morning Hermione awoke with a pounding headache and a plan. 

The first, easily remedied by a handful of Tylenol and a tall glass of water, was no doubt a result of Hermione's uncharacteristic imbibing the night before. She had never been a hard drinker though she had always prided herself on her ability to hold her liquor better than most people she knew, and this latest weakness in body only worked to make her more determined with her plan.

She was going to make Draco sorry he had ever rejected her.

And while Hermione was fully aware that her plan was both childish and petty, it didn't stop her from phoning Marie at nine in the morning and begging her to take her shopping. Fortunately, Marie had neglected to talk any sense into Hermione and instead had readily agreed.

So, an hour after her initial idea, Hermione found herself walking into Saks, arm in arm with Marie. Both girls looked fierce and determined and on a mission. Hermione, to get her pride back and Marie—well, Marie was just happy to have an excuse to see Draco.

"What do you need to get?" Marie asked brightly, skipping down the aisles of the first floor. Hermione smiled.

"I was thinking I should get something a little—_promiscuous—_to impress Pierre." At this, Marie brightened considerably.

"Ooh," Marie cooed, a peculiar glint in her eyes, "I know _exactly_ what you need."

So did Hermione.

And as long as it would piss the hell out of Draco, it would be _perfect._

Grinning, they entered the lift, and pressed on the _'Women's section'_.

* * *

Stepping out, they looked at each other with a determined expression. To Marie, shopping was a very serious business, and for once in her life, it was the same for Hermione. 

Hermione was completely humiliated when she had drunkenly confessed her newly-realized feelings for Draco, but she would never have developed those feelings if Draco didn't keep flirting with her! What was she supposed to? His sexual innuendos were always casually slipped into every conversation she had with him, and she was just supposed to have known he was merely making a mockery of her? He said everything so smoothly, and so flirtatiously, she had no idea he was just making it up. She should have known, and now she felt ashamed of herself, and Draco was probably having the time of his life. In retrospect, Hermione realized, it was probably some stupid deal he made with the Slytherins. See if Draco could get the "Gryffindor Princess".

It was sick.

But now she would get him back in a place that would hurt the most.

Gliding down the aisles next to Marie, who was occasionally picking out an outfit, each more outrageous than the last, Hermione glanced over to see Draco. He was there all right. Thankfully he hadn't seen her...yet.

When it came to regaining her pride, Hermione would stoop to any level. Although Hermione may not seem the type, she was a very proud person (much alike Draco) and though she would usually never flaunt herself to get what she wanted, she knew that this way, Draco would feel very bad.

Because let's face it, boys will be boys..

"Ah!" Marie squealed "Perfect!"

Slightly taken aback about the clothes she had chosen (_could that be classified as clothing?_ Hermione wondered, _there was barely any fabric!_) She knew that she had no choice.

Hermione stepped inside of the changing rooms, and took off all her clothes. She eyed herself skeptically. Sure, Hermione didn't have the perfect figure, skin or hair, but she had learned over the course of years to accept herself for who she was. But now her confidence wavered slightly, maybe she would look like a fool, and Draco would just remind himself that he was _glad _that they hadn't gotten together.

But as soon as she slipped into the dress, she smiled happily.

This was perfect.

She certainly felt over-exposed. _But that's the plan,_ she reminded herself, as she stepped out of the room to face Marie.

"Wow! You looked gorgeous Hermione!" Marie said enthusiastically, "you should wear more stuff like this!"

_I would if I was a slut_, Hermione thought, but she looked approvingly in the mirror. She did look cute.

Now for part B.

"Hmm..." she murmured "I'm not sure. I think I need a _male's _opinion."

Raising an eyebrow at Hermione, and then winking, Marie beckoned for Draco to come over.

At the sound of Marie's voice, Draco rolled his eyes and began to trudge over, but as soon as he saw Hermione his eyes widened in shock.

"Get out of that outfit right now!" he barked louder than he had intended.

_Yes,_ Hermione though happily, _it's working._

"You're not my father," Hermione snapped smoothly. "And besides, I quite like it, do you think Pierre will?" she added.

"No, because he won't be able to see you in it!" Draco said, his voice squeaking furiously.

"Why not? I'm going to be buying it and I don't see why I can't wear it?" Hermione said, pretending to be totally ignorant of the situation.

Walking towards him, she turned to face him.

"Can you tell me how much it costs?" she said huskily.

She turned her back to him, and he fumbled with the tag, which connected at the back. His hands were shaking in excitement, and in fury. He brushed her waist, and whispered into her ear.

"If you're going to play dirty," he murmured, "so will I."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, feigning ignorance. "I'm buying it for Pierre."

Draco stepped back, a maniacal gleam in his eyes.

"Well I think that will be rather difficult seeing as we have to share our income and I am most certainly _not _allowing this to eat up a week's worth of my paycheck."

* * *

**A/N: Hey everybody! Sorry that the update was a bit late, but here it is! Next week's chapter includes a bit about the other characters, (and of course about Draco and Hermione!), I was planning to have a little competition about the exact whereabouts of the othe characters, but someone told me I may be violating the rules, so...sorry no can do!**

**Thanks SO much for all the wonderful reviews I got, it's the best thing you can give an author! And this time I got 47 reviews, so wouldn't be great if I got 50+ now!!! Let's try and break the 400+ review mark! woop, woop! Thanks you to the following reviewers: **

**Yocum1219, Ellie, EmilyLovesYOU, DeeplyDepressedChick1616 , silverlovedragoness, rani singala, X.Draco's.X.Goddess.X, abbi, Varietygirl9143, kirby'slover, iluv2dance, Girl With A Pen, Kimmie, Nora , icewitch1692, Dragon navi, Sam's Firefly, sammygurl262316, mean-girl123, tuuuurrtlelovvee, Marmalade Fever, Kae-Lae, luvHaru7, Malfoy218, XxXOutOfMyElementXxX, mRs.tRoyboLton89, Kindali Sidera, Ski000Girl, Blackdranzergurl, Chrissy8887779999, WinnieThaPoo92 , Hater-of-heartless-critics, Crazy 109, Goddess of Rock, grace , justanotheraddiction , Queen of Crimson, Nostalgic , evilrabidplotbunnies, DracoandHermione31, Princess.Duh., stephanie wolcott , chichirixxx, Sugarkane86. arfa , Bint-Anath**

**Hehehe, love you all :D**


	15. Love is in the Air

**Love is in the Air

* * *

****Disclaimer: **Don't own anything related to Harry Potter.

* * *

**Pansy and Neville**

"_Please_ Pansy, _please_ don't hurt me!" Neville whimpered, cowering away from an enraged Pansy Parkinson.

"How _dare _you!" she screeched, her arms flying dangerously close to Neville's trembling head, "How dare you suggest that I should be going off to work now! Do you not think I'm capable of telling the time? Huh? _Do you_?"

"I'm s-s-sorry," Neville whimpered, close to tears. There had been many times during his time at Hogwarts that Neville felt like bursting into tears. It was rare though that he actually succumbed to the feeling and broke down. Now though, Neville didn't seem to care for whatever was left of his pride or image.

Pansy on the other hand, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, and was smiling as she watched Neville backing away from her. She was so used to keeping quiet and allowing the boys in her dorm to play the role of dominator that her newfound abilities pleased her tenfold and she found herself exercising them at every possible moment. When Neville broke the coffee maker, when he asked Pansy to help with the washing, when he broke one of the chairs, when he dropped their camera, when he lost the assignment sheet—all had seemed to warrant a full-on explosion of Pansy's temper. The first few times, it had just been a bit of scolding, but as the week progressed and Pansy realized the full extent of her temper and how effective it was, she found herself screaming for the tiniest of things, growing angrier and angrier every time he failed to do something right.

In truth, Pansy wasn't as angry as she let on. She loved playing with the boy; she was in total control of him. Whenever she entered the room, he would shrink away, scared of her wild fists. The great thing about the situation was that she had the advantage of being of girl. Over the years, she had learned that being a girl made it easier to argue. Boys could not a) hit back b) shout back, and c) with a cute wink, a kiss blown in their direction, no guy would continue to argue. However much Pansy was called 'pug-faced', there was a certain amount of cunning, and slyness which made her quite appealing to the (mostly Slytherin) males. However, this charm did _not_ work on the ladies.

"Well sorry isn't good enough you idiot!" she bellowed, "why, of all the people in our year, did I have to be shoved with _you_?"

At this, Neville decided he had had enough. He had never been the strongest of people, but he had always had his height and decided now was the time to use this to his advantage. He towered over Pansy, his eyes reflecting the rage that had lain dormant for the majority of his life. He was angry and he didn't know how far he was going to go.

Pansy looked up at him, her own eyes mirroring the newfound fear that had risen in her chest upon seeing Neville's uncharacteristic reaction. Knowing she had to act—and act _fast_—Pansy did the one thing she could think out. She stood up.

And she kissed him.

* * *

**Lavender and Ronald**

"Thank you," Ron murmured, and after receiving a glare from the shop-owner added, "and please come visit again."

He hated his job. It was as simple as that. And while most people hated what they did, Ron felt confident in the fact that he was the only one who really, truly, _loathed _his job. He was in Australia, for one, the hottest place in the world, and he was stuck selling _winter clothes_. It was ridiculous. On a good day, he had one or two customers, and his spare time was spent catering to the whims of his porcine boss.

To make matters worse, Lavender seemed to be having the time of her life. As a lifeguard, she got to spend her days lounging on the beach, ogling men ripped with muscles, while the volunteers brought her all the lemonade and soda she asked for.

Ron gazed sadly outside. It was such a beautiful day.

And damn, that was one beautiful girl walking into the store.

"Hey!" she said brightly, her sandy blond hair swinging around her tanned shoulders, "I couldn't help but feel bad for you to be stuck here all day, so I just thought I'd come and say hello!" She smiled, her voice thick with an Australian accent.

"Well...t-t-that's nice of you," Ron mumbled, his face flushing red.

"A foreigner I see," she smiled, picking up on his accent, "don't see many red-heads around here either," she added, gesturing at his hair.

"Sammy," she said, sticking her hand out.

"Ron," he replied, then quickly added, "pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," she smiled, her teeth a bright white. "You know, I want to show you something."

Confused, Ron stared at her, waiting to see what she meant. She began unbuttoning her top slowly, smiling as Ron's eyes widened in shock. This was very new to him—he had never dreamed howeasy-going girls outside of Hogwarts were, and if he had, he would have never bothered with Lavender and others. Still looking eagerly at her chest, he failed to see the look of deviousness on the girl's face. She smirked at his stupidity.

Suddenly, she pulled out a gun from under her shirt, and she pointed it towards the Ron. She nodded towards the cash-register, and Ron hastened to open it, handing over the money without a second thought. She produced a bag from somewhere in her pants and swiped everything into it. Still holding the gun, she leant forward to Ron, who was now a pale white, in complete shock at what was happening. He could see right down her half-opened top, and as she leaned forward, she pulled him into a passionate kiss.

"Cut!"

Ron glanced around at the director, making sure he was pleased with the latest scene.

"That was great Ronald, and you too Annabelle! Take ten minutes while we change the scene, and Miss Brown, get Annabelle's next outfit ready!"

Lavender came bounding up, holding the clothing for Annabelle to wear, and Ron sat down in his actors' chair emblazoned with _Ronald Weasley _across the back.

Boy did he love Hollywood.

* * *

**Harry and Ginny**

"I love it here," Ginny cooed, as she and Harry sat outside on the balcony, wrapped in each other's arms.

"You know what I love," Harry murmured into her ear, "you."

Ginny turned to face him, her face glowing with happiness.

"Oh Harry," she cooed softly, leaning in to kiss him, "I love you too."

He took a strand of her hair, and pushed it around her ear. Harry stroked her cheek lovingly, and he moved even closer to her face.

"Ginny," he said, in a sort of confessing manner, "I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life, with anyone other than you."

He took her hand, and looked at her straight in the eyes.

"What do you mean Harry?" Ginny asked in a whisper, too afraid to fully voice the hopes in her own mind.

"I really love you," he said. "I...I..." he stumbled over his words, shaking his head. Words could not describe how much he loved the woman sitting next to him. He knew that what he was saying was quite a powerful thing to say, for someone so young, but Harry had made up his mind long before they arrived in Sicily that he wanted to live with Ginny for the rest of his days.

Ginny eye's looked knowingly upon her boyfriend.

"I think I may know what you mean," she began slowly. She stood up from the swing-seat, taking his hands and pulling him into the house and towards their bedroom. Harry followed excitedly, hoping that they were going to do what he _thought _they were going to.

"Ginny," Harry asked slowly, "are you sure this is what you want?"

"Harry," Ginny warned, a grin spreading across her face, "now is _not_ the time to start complaining."

Both smiling, they entered the room.

* * *

An hour or so later, Harry leaned over and kissed Ginny's forehead. Then, turning to face her, he whispered: 

"Ron's going to kill me."

* * *

**Hermione and Draco**

Hermione's eyes, which were once blazing with excitement, now saddened, as she realized what he was saying was true. The dress _was _expensive, and even if they weren't in this competition, she would have never been able to afford it. Dejectedly, she made her way back to the changing room, but Marie was having none of it.

"Now, now Draco," she said, "no need to get jealous, I know _you_ don't want Pierre to see Hermione looking like this, but honestly, that doesn't mean _I _won't buy it for her!"

Winking slyly, she pulled Draco closer and whispered, "If you want, I can buy one for myself as well."

Grinning, she made Hermione take the dress off, and walked over to the check out.

"Why are you doing this?" Draco spat, "I know that you'll never get over the fact I won't like your nice-little-Mudblood-ass, but that doesn't mean you can do this kind of crap."

Hermione walked out smiling.

"I have a nice ass? Thanks," she laughed, following Marie's steps, swinging her hips just _a little _bit more than her natural posture was accustomed to.

* * *

Fuming, Draco stormed back to the apartment. After having to deal with Hermione and Marie in the morning, he was aggravated all afternoon, and was even more annoyed that he couldn't go back home earlier to shout at her. 

Opening the door to the apartment, Draco ran through the speech he had planned the entire ride home, which was slated to include something along the lines of, "If I had my wand, I'd Avada you into next century". But as he walked into the room, he was completely surprised by what he saw.

Hermione and Marie were dancing, and jumping around the room to some kind of invisible music. They were attached to a white thread connecting them ear to ear. Hermione was clutching a small pink box, and at the sight of Draco she started singing along with Marie.

"_You're so vaaain...you probably think this song is about youuu_," much to the annoyance of Draco, because for one, they were completely tone-deaf, and secondly, he could not understand where this music was coming from.

Still dancing crazily, he was getting angrier and angrier by the second. Every time he said something, the girls could clearly not hear anything. All they could see was Draco opening and closing his mouth, like a goldfish.

When the song had finished, Hermione pulled the white thing out of her ear.

"Did you say anything?" She asked sweetly.

"Where was the music coming from?" Draco demanded, fuming.

"Oh from this," she said, shaking her new iPod in front of him, "aren't they great? Pierre gave it to me!" She lied, (Marie had in fact, bought it). But Marie, who wasn't listening, just staring at Draco in awe, nodded her head.

"Pierre was here?" Draco asked.

"Oh yeah," Hermione lied, _again._ She was surprised at how easily it came to her, "Since we got back from our shopping spree."

"Well I forbid you to let any boys into this apartment," Draco said finally.

"Well," Hermione said with a giggle, "he's hardly a _boy_".

"You know what I meant!" Draco bellowed menacingly.

Hermione stood still. It wasn't the first time Draco had shouted at her, but this time he had been furious. She had never seen him so angry at her. Back at Hogwarts, he would just shout insults at her from the other end of the corridor, but now was different. They were close up, and angry.

"Marie, maybe you should go," Hermione said quietly. Marie, who was now nodding to the beat escaping from her iPod, just walked out, completely unaware of the situation.

The apartment was silent, but Hermione could still hear Draco's words echoing around her.

"You know what," Hermione whispered slowly, "I'm starting to appreciate how 'you will never like me', because day by day, I'm starting to see what a cruel and intolerable asshole you are!"

"Look, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I want you," Hermione said, thinking reasonably about what she needed him to get. She was annoyed, and sure, he had pushed her beyond her limits, but he was obviously progressing, asking for some way for her to forgive him, "to get me some food, because I've invited Mr. Riley over for dinner"

"Errr," Draco mumbled, clearly in no position to argue, though he was clearly in no mood to entertain, begrudgingly shook his head, "Fine."

"Ok, I'll go write down the stuff, and give you the money," Hermione said, slightly surprised how willing he was to do this. McGonagall would be proud, she smiled to herself. She just couldn't believe how willingly he had let this all breeze over. _Maybe things will be okay_.

Little did she know, that this was only the start of a whole stream of arguments which would happen in the following week.

* * *

"I'm exhausted," Draco moaned, as he collapsed onto the couch, a good two hours later. 

"Took you long enough!" Hermione snapped, but in a friendly way. "I'll get the dinner started" she walked into the kitchen, and then added, "thanks, by the way"

"Mmm," Draco murmured, switching on the TV. For the last few days now, he had become addicted to watching the sports channel, especially American Football.

An hour later, a panic stricken Hermione ran out of the kitchen.

"Draco!" she said, "I've only got four oranges!"

"What my baby wants, my baby gets, right?" he said, still focusing on the game, and not on Hermione.

"Urr...'baby' wanted 12 oranges," she said sarcastically.

Draco looked at her briefly, and then shouted "Oh, no come on!" at the screen. Seeing the exasperated look on Hermione's face, he said, "Why would you want twelve oranges?"

Hermione, who was breathing in and out, slowly, muttered, "Because I'm making a 12 orange centerpiece"

"So no-one's actually eating them? They're just _show_ oranges?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hermione said, raising her eyebrow, "They're show oranges, to put in the middle of the table. In front of everyone else. I'm glad you find that amusing, but I can't fill a vase with four oranges!"

Draco, who was trying to find a way for her to go away, so he could watch the game quietly, suggested, "Maybe you could just use a drinking glass or something. We could have a smaller version of a centerpiece," he said simply, taking a sip from his can.

"We can't just use a drinking glass!" Hermione said in a hopeless tone.

"You know what, why don't we just scratch the whole 'centerpiece' idea, and you could add the oranges into the meal," Draco suggested. "That way, we can make a better meal versus something visually nice too look at."

Exasperated, Hermione looked around the room, waving her arms around,

"What's happening here? What—what are you doing?" she demanded hysterically.

"I...I had such a long day" Draco sighed. "My feet are just killing me."

"Oh, well I've been cooking my ass off for the last hour or so, and before that I cleaned the apartment so Mr. Riley wouldn't be horrified to walk into here! Come on—please help set the table!"

"But 'Mione," he said, sounding very much like a pleading Ron, "you've done such a great job yourself, don't you just want to finish it off yourself, so you have the personal power of accomplishment?"

Giving him a glare, she said icily, "Set the table:"

Walking back into the kitchen, Hermione continued to listen to his lame excuses.

"Do you think, that when Mr. Eiffel Tower was a bit tired to finish off his work, he just asked a couple of other guys to do it? 'Hey fellows'," he acted, "'could you just put up the last beams for me?' No he didn't. And look what he created! A masterpiece!" He then pointed at the table, and looked at her persuasively.

Hermione, slowly walking back, said, "And do you think that when 'Mr. Eiffel Tower' asked for twelve beams, he only got four?"

"You know," Draco said, looking back at the screen, "all this talking, it's really tiring my throat out. And now, I'm going to have to watch the highlights, to see what I've missed here," he pointed at the game blaring on the screen.

"Just take a shower then!" Hermione yelled from in the kitchen. "Cause this is what I don't want to happen, alright. He's going ring on the doorbell and then I'll be forced to entertain and let him in when I haven't even set the table or cooked the meal!"

"You're absolutely right," Draco said, trying to just ignore her, "I'll take a shower. Just _after _this quarter is done, okay?"

"_Draco_..."

_Ring-ring._

"Shit! He's here," she sighed. "Quick, set the table!"

"Err...I gotta take a shower now," Draco said, hurriedly walking to the bathroom.

"Draco," she hissed, "Draco!". But he had already left for the bathroom.

She walked to the door, and glanced at herself in the mirror. She gave a fake smile, and used her fingers to quickly brush through her hair.

She opened the door, and like she had seen her mother do when she was hosting, smiled graciously, and welcomed her guest into her home.

She'd get him back later.

* * *

**Sources:**

The song sung by Marie and Hermione was "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon

The whole "Orange" debacle was based off of the movie,"The Break Up"

* * *

**A/N:** Hey everyone! How are you all doing? I'm very excited, seeing as I'm about to go on Holiday! yaay! Well, I hope this chapter clears things up a bit about what's going on with the other characters and how are things are going with Hermione and Draco! I really liked this chapter, it was funny too write, and it's almost over 3000+ words, so I worked quite hard! Lol!

I got what I wanted last time, 50 reviews! (and not one extra! hehe) so that made me a happy bunny ::grins::

I just wanted to ask to keep going with the reviews! It would be **fantastic **if I could come back home to an inbox filled with 100 new reviews! Hahaha...ok, wishfull thinking, but it would still be mindblowingly awesome! Hehehe

Other than that...it's cool, and I love all the people out there who like my fic...it's so great how supportive you all are! Love you all too bits xx

mina


	16. Kiss the Girl

**Chapter 16 - Kiss the Girl**

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**Disclaimer: It's _fanfiction_. Fiction, written by _fans_. Comprende?**

* * *

"Merlin! Are you _still _talking about last night?" Draco wondered incredulously, "Really Hermione, what's done is done." 

"And if everybody had that kind of attitude then this place would be a disaster!" Hermione snapped back, weaving her way through the usual Sunday crowd. It had been exactly a week, and they had managed only three and a half assignments (Going to the Eiffel Tower, corresponding with friends, buying the camera and they had eaten out once), so the pair had reluctantly resigned to having dinner at a different restaurant, which Mr. Riley had strongly recommended the night before. However, Hermione wanted to get outside as soon as Draco had gotten back from work (to "get some nice fresh air") so although their reservations were set for nine, Draco found himself wandering the streets of Paris with a nearly irate Hermione at four thirty.

"I didn't _do_ anything though!" Draco complained, bewildered by Hermione's accusations. He had taken his shower, as promised the night before, and had emerged for a good portion of the evening with Mr. Riley. True, he had retired early and in doing so had effectively monopolized the bedroom, but really, he saw no reason why Hermione should _still _be talking about what she called "irreparable" behavior.

"That's exactly my point, you ignorant twit!"

Draco stopped walking, a smirk playing on his face.

"Do I look fat?" he wondered aloud.

"No. Yes—_what_?" Hermione spluttered.

"And they told me you where the smartest witch around," Draco sighed. Then, upon seeing the anger rising in Hermione's face once more, he elucidated, "For your information, a twit is the term used for a pregnant goldfish."

"Oh God," Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes for added effect, "You're such a—," she growled in frustration, realizing she had no accurate comparison.

"Oh come on," Hermione snapped finally, grabbing Draco's arm and dragging him through the streets, to where exactly, she did not know.

"Look! Look!" Draco said, grabbing Hermione's arm and whirling her around to face a shop. "I want to go in!" He whined, like the spoiled rich kid he was.

"Why?" Hermione asked in bafflement, "it's not as if you would recognize any of the bands."

"Oh come on Hermione," Draco pleaded, "This would definitely help me when I 'enter the Muggle world, and to fit in with everyday society'," he quoted.

Hermione looked into his grey eyes, and sighed in defeat

"Fine, we can go in—but only for five minutes. And we're _not _getting anything!"

And with that, Draco dragged her inside, smiling from ear to ear.

Hermione should have known, it only took Draco a couple of seconds to get to the 'Metal' section of the Virgin Mega store.

Flicking through several different titles, Draco amused himself by leaning on the racks and looking at some of the song names, and their corresponding artwork on the front.

Hermione watched, surprised, as Draco engaged in conversation with a group of guys, who were wearing large trench-coats, with spikes protruding from several sleeves, and with hair longer than her own. Hermione would have never thought such a well-bred person like Draco would be seen talking to such metal fans. It wasn't in his normal behavior, but then again, what did she really know about him?

He was laughing, tossing his silver blonde hair out of his eyes as his mouth pulled into a curt smirk, as is still asserting his status despite his seeming familiarity with the boys. _Arrogant prick_, Hermione thought to herself, strolling toward the 'Rock'' section. Still, she couldn't help notice that he seemed to fit right into the group.

Hermione had been looking through some CDs, but after twenty minutes she was about ready to leave. She glanced over to Draco who was still chatting animatedly with the boys who Hermione found increasingly unsettling. She had noticed that occasionally some of the taller ones would throw her lewd glances and she found herself reluctant to approach such a motley crew. Still, she knew that if she didn't go up, Draco may never leave, so she gathered her courage and braced herself for what was sure to be an interesting meeting.

Reaching out tentatively, Hermione tapped Draco on the back and prayed that he didn't say or do anything that would infuriate her. He turned around slowly, his eyes bright and mischievous

"Hey, Draco," Hermione began, embarrassed by the catch in her voice. She was cut off however when one of the boys laughed loudly.

"This your girlfriend?" He wanted to know, one eyebrow arched.

Draco shot Hermione a look, and then grinned evilly. _This is for the dress_, he thought. Hermione could read what he was thinking, and she silently pleaded with him not to do what she _thought_ he was going to do.

_Touch me and I'll kill you, _she thought.

"The one and only," he said brightly, wrapping a hand around her waist, and spinning her to face him, ignoring her soundless threat.

She struggled slightly but his grip was firm on her, his hands keeping her pinned to his body. She glared at him with such hatred that the group of guys backed away slightly, as if anticipating some kind of fight. But though Hermione could have moved away from Draco if she tried, she didn't choose to pursue the action, resolving instead to stay rooted at his side. _At least this way the other guys won't make a pass at me, _Hermione thought to herself.

Draco's eyes flashed as he playfully moved a strand of Hermione's curly hair, tucking it under her ear. He looked into her eyes for a moment, and all enmity between the two disappeared, replaced by a sudden lust, from both of them. His hands moved from her waist to her cheek, where he stroked her jaw line gently before kissing her. At first the kiss was soft and gentle but soon it had evolved to a hungrier passion embraced by both who seemed desperate to get rid of the repressed sexual desires that had built the two of them.

The passion exploded the moment their lips touched, and Hermione was surprised to find a small sigh escape her lips and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. All the acrimony that had built up over the years—all of the name calling and the fighting and the jealousy—all of it was brought together in a startling crescendo of ardor as their osculation deepened.

The guys were whooping next to them, but neither seemed to notice. There had been so much tension between the two in the past week—heck, in the past seven _years_— and this was the first time they could escape from it. It seemed to go on forever, neither of them ready to stop, and neither realizing exactly what was going on.

Finally though, Draco drew back slightly, as Hermione let out an involuntary whimper at the separation that landed somewhere between his neck and his ear. Draco smirked. This was the way all girls were—begging him for more.

But he had expected more from Hermione.

Draco leaned in, moving slowly toward her neck, but just before he made contact with her, she opened her eyes again. In one instant she seemed to regain her sense and became rigid in his arms, shoving him away sharply and glaring at him with such power and rage that Draco found himself relieved that looks couldn't kill.

Draco, sensing the oncoming rage, decided to act quickly in order to save face in front of the intrigued patrons of the music store. So he simply acted like he always did with girls, and manipulated the situation to suit himself. That's what made him so popular amongst the girls. He was the 'big-strong-man' who could take care of you, who would protect you—yet he could also be a gentleman, when he wanted to.

Smiling cockily, Draco took advantage of Hermione's momentary paralysis and simply moved away from her, as if _he _was the one done with _her_. As if _she _was the one who was now useless.

As he turned around, to face the guys, and to ignore the swaying Hermione, one of the guys clapped his hand on Draco's back, as if congratulating him. They continued to talk away and when Draco managed the occasional glance back at Hermione, he noticed that she was just standing there, gazing at nothing. Her face was so empty that the flurry of activity racing through her head seemed almost implausible.

_I did _not_ enjoy that! He's...he's...Draco Malfoy! Mudblood hater—remember?_

But instead of yelling all of this at Draco, she causally moved her way toward one of the headphone sets and indicated for the guy behind the counter to play one of the CD's. She put the headphones on and heard the first chords being strummed.

She was not going to let him know that she relished every second of their connection.

* * *

Minutes later, without any negotiating on Hermione's behalf, Draco walked out with a whole stack of CDs and a huge smile plastered on his face. 

"Thanks Hermione!" he smiled.

She just kept walking.

"Hey, look about before," Draco began, smirking.

Hermione merely looked at him, a bland smile plastered to her face. She had learned (through many arguments with Ron) how to give someone the cold shoulder and how to not show any expression shared within the slightest conversation.

"I was just joking," he said casually, as if it had meant nothing to him.

But he was lying. It certainly meant something to both of them.

"Sure Draco," she said, as if she was addressing a two year old, "it won't happen again."

How very wrong she was.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, firstly, sorry for the long wait, and the slight shortness of the chapter. But this is because of complete lack of idea's. I need them!!!!!! Pleeeease drop me a review with some idea's, because at the rate it's going now, I don't see getting much further with this fic! Heluuuup!**

**And secondly, if you want to know about updates, check my profile. Scroll down, and you should see some information about it, and if you don't, either drop me a review, or PM. Don't mind!**

**Now laaastly, if the dates are right, voting starts tommorow (25th Feb) at Dangerous Liaisons Awards. Go to this link, and vote for your favorite fics (hopefully me!) www. dangerous . rendezv0us . org / dla / awards . html (take out the spaces).**

**And that's all from me this week, but look out for me in...a while!**

**Oh, and since you've already read it, why don't you just review now! ;-) Hehehe**


	17. Calm before the Storm

_Chapter 17_

**Calm before the Storm**

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**Disclaimer: Yeah yeah yeah...don't own it, ok?!** P

* * *

Hermione walked into the restaurant and promptly sat down. 

The remainder of the walk had been blessedly silent, with Draco struggling to carry his tower of CDs and Hermione plotting her revenge. His show earlier at the store had clearly been to get a rise out of her, and make him seem "cool" in front of his newfound friends, and Hermione had had the misfortune to be at the butt of the whole joke. She was determined however, to reclaim her dignity and her pride by getting back at Draco in any way she could.

Unfortunately, Hermione was at a loss for ideas.

Having been raised with the belief that all people were innately good, Hermione had never had to deal with making conniving plans to shame others, or creating shrewd schemes sure to debase those involved. Despite her numerous adventures with Harry and Ron, Hermione had never developed a mean streak and was rarely even known to hold much of a grudge toward anyone—except of course when someone _really _irked her.

Still though, Hermione had never harbored many feelings of maliciousness toward anyone—except Voldemort of course, but she had never really thought of him as a real person anyway. The whole idea of vengeance was somewhat new to her. Her parents were dentists for crying out loud, not servants to a murderous dark lord and Hermione had never had to deal with revenge plots.

That did not mean, however, that Hermione was opposed to trying.

She knew that a large source of Draco's pride stemmed from his impressive lineage and it was that which Hermione was attempting to focus on. _If only there was some way to soil his spirit toward his pedigree, I would get him once and for all, _Hermione decided, staring deftly at the menu the waiter had brought. One quick glimpse told her that Draco was focused on his menu as well, though he was visibly nervous, as if expecting some sort of retaliation at any second.

"So about what happened back at the store—," Draco began slowly, folding his menu and setting it on the edge of the table. Hermione followed suit and stared at him with wide eyes.

"I thought we already established that it was a fluke and wouldn't happen again," Hermione interjected, attempting to remain impassive and innocent. Draco nodded, but his brow remained furrowed.

"I know that's what we _said, _but it's clear that you aren't completely over it."

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione persisted, keeping with her innocent façade. Draco looked unconvinced but said nothing. Hermione smiled. "Now, shall we order?"

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Draco pressed. Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes.

"You know Draco, if you don't drop it soon, I'm going to start to think that _you _want to keep talking about it," Hermione warned. Draco looked startled and ready to retaliate but instead he kept his mouth shut.

Hermione thought it was the best idea of the night.

* * *

Three hours later, Hermione and Draco returned to the apartment, full and happy and laughing. 

Surprisingly enough, once Draco had finally believed that Hermione wasn't going to pull some elaborate prank right there in the restaurant, he had relaxed and actually seemed mildly apologetic for his earlier actions. Together, Hermione and Draco had ordered and enjoyed a wonderful meal (which Draco had insisted on paying for), and were now acting almost halfway amiable toward each other. Draco had even relaxed enough to realize that Hermione was far from the evil-spirited, scheming girl he had thought.

And oh what a silly boy he was.

"Do you want something to drink?" Draco asked, walking over to the bar cart and grabbing a decanter. Hermione eyed him warily.

"Don't you think you had enough at dinner?" She pressed, flopping inelegantly down on the couch. _Who are you trying to impress anyways, _Hermione asked herself when she questioned her decorum, and sank lower into the couch.

"Impossible."

"The way you consume, you should think about checking into a facility," Hermione teased as Draco replaced the decanter lid and walked with his glass over to the couch. He shoved Hermione's feet over so there was room for him and took a seat.

"The way you preach, you should think about checking into a seminary."

"It's your liver," Hermione conceded with a shrug, as if she was over the entire conversation. It was a lie though, as Hermione was surprised at how easily the whole exchange was and almost found that she was enjoying this light, verbal sparring with Draco.

"Why are you so worried about me?" Draco wanted to know, raising an eyebrow but keeping his tone light.

"I'm not—I'm worried about _me _and our project," Hermione admitted candidly. Draco looked unconvinced.

"I don't believe you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes—I think you really have a mad, passionate crush on me and you don't want to see my liver fail."

"Your arrogance never fails to amaze me," Hermione declared, as Draco produced and held out a tinier—albeit fuller—drink for her. And while Hermione had never been much of a drinker, she took the proffered liquid and took a tiny sip.

"See—it isn't half bad."

"Most things aren't when in moderation," Hermione chided lightly, finishing off her drink and putting the now-empty glass aside. Draco gave her a sideways look, but it was clear he was amused.

"Your concern unnerves me," Draco admitted, but he was smiling as he took a slow swig of the coppery liquid.

"How so?"

"I'm afraid this is the calm before the storm." Hermione laughed out loud at this.

"You have no idea."

* * *

Later that night, long after Draco had fallen into an alcohol-induced slumber that promised to provide a painful morning, Hermione sat, tapping her pencil against a blank page. There was so much she wanted to say and yet she couldn't seem to compose a single sentence. It had to be perfect, it had to be convincing— 

It had to be a lie.

Hermione almost laughed at her newfound sense of secrecy and retribution. It was so uncharacteristic of her and yet, Hermione found that it sat oddly well with her normal countenance. _Maybe he's rubbing off on me, _Hermione thought because, as much as she loved them, she couldn't attribute this new love of retaliation to Harry and Ron who had less hate in themselves combined than anyone else she had ever met. Yet as unsettling as this realization may have been to her earlier that week, Hermione was surprised to find that she was almost emboldened by this comparison to Draco and it was with a renewed sense of dynamism that Hermione put her pencil to the paper.

And then she began to write.

* * *

**(.( Like to thank my beta for writing this one, the great pink-levicorpus. If you would be interested in making a banner, please let me know. Scroll down, and there are 2 examples, made by Rayek and The Emerald Writer. In the next chapter you'll find what Hermione wrote and to who. And more importantly - how does Draco react? What if it brings them closer? Think you know? Well take a guess by reviewing. Till next time, xx ).)**

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	18. You've got Mail!

**Chapter 18 - You've got Mail!**

_

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_**Disclaimer: Yeah - last time I checked my name wasn't J.K Rowling, and oh yeah - it still isn't now!**_

* * *

_

_(.("Your concern unnerves me," Draco admitted, but he was smiling as he took a slow swig of the coppery liquid._

_"How so?"_

_"I'm afraid this is the calm before the storm." Hermione laughed out loud at this._

_"You have no idea." _

_Later that night, long after Draco had fallen into an alcohol-induced slumber that promised to provide a painful morning, Hermione sat, tapping her pencil against a blank page. There was so much she wanted to say and yet she couldn't seem to compose a single sentence. It had to be perfect, it had to be convincing—_

_It had to be a lie_

_And then she began to write. ).)_

* * *

The next morning, it was all over. 

Not all over the news of course—that would have been ridiculous and slightly unbelievable seeing as not many people knew the thick vein of rivalry that flowed through the tumultuous acquaintance of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Those who did know the pair however, were shocked. _Well, _Hermione thought as another owl—the fourth one of the morning—flew up to the window and began tapping furiously, _this is what he wanted, wasn't it? _

Which, no matter how much Hermione tried to rationalize it, she knew was a total lie.

Draco hadn't asked for any of this, he hadn't alluded to any of this, and—despite the kiss in the music store—he hadn't indicated that he had wanted a relationship with Hermione at all. Still though, he had initiated the kiss in the music store and now Hermione finally had her revenge. And oh how sweet it was.

Now, if only Draco would get _up_.

Hermione was unfamiliar with pulling off elaborate ruses, but it seemed that all of the ones she had been familiar with had somehow been done to perfection. The planner understood what to do and how to do it and how long the whole thing would take. And while Hermione had found the first two easy to complete, it was the third which she was having the most trouble with.

Simply because Draco wouldn't wake up.

_I warned him about drinking too much, _Hermione thought to herself, _now he'll probably sleep the whole damn day away and he won't find out about this until later tonight! _In her haste to have him up and facing the day, Hermione had poked her head into the bedroom a few times (she had graciously allowed him the proper bed, knowing that he would get little sleep once she was done) and so she was sure that he was alive and not in some drunken state of near-death.

_Come on, _Hermione thought anxiously, with all the patience of a six year old on Christmas morning, storming around the flat. Another owl flew in, depositing another message, and Hermione smiled, chalking this up as another personal victory. _That makes five, _she mentally tallied and her smile widened. When she had sent that letter to Blaise she had never _dreamed _it would spread so quickly but it clearly had and Hermione was delighting in the stir it was causing.

When she composed her letter to Blaise, Hermione knew she was somehow sullying her own name as well as Draco's, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Lineage and status always meant much more to Draco than to her, and it was for that reason that she was prepared to take a social dive in order to ensure that Draco was right there beside her.

_Why won't he wake up, _Hermione groaned inwardly, walking toward the kitchen. In the time they had been in Paris, Hermione had used all of two pots and one pan—rendering the ten other shiny contraptions completely useless. _Well, not completely, _Hermione thought maliciously, sweeping a stack of pots off the counter top and onto the floor. They clambered with such volume that Hermione _knew _Draco was awake now. And sure enough, ten seconds later, Draco could be heard making his way to the bathroom with a loud, irritated,

"Granger!" Breaking the silence.

"Sorry!" Hermione yelled back in false sympathy, smiling devilishly to herself as she bent down to retrieve the fallen pots. "Cooking accident."

A minute later, Draco emerged from the bathroom looking unbelievably tired and unkempt. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were all twisted around him. _Who knew he was a real human, _Hermione mused, almost feeling slightly sorry for the boy whose reputation she had worked so hard to destroy. She almost regretted having sent the letter.

And then the feeling passed.

"I'll show you an accident," Draco threatened half-heartedly, walking past Hermione and grabbing a croissant for breakfast. He had eaten through half of it before turning back to Hermione, the wince apparent in his body. "So what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione wondered, false innocence splashed across her visage.

"Why are you awake so early?"

"It's not _that_ early," Hermione countered, holding up a watch. "Nearly noon." Draco looked at the watch and was visibly surprised by the time.

"Geez, I guess I _was _sleeping pretty late."

"Imagine that," Hermione laughed, her glance falling to the tiny pile of mail that seemed to be growing by the second.

"What's all this?" Draco wanted to know, picking up some of the letters.

"They've been coming for you all morning."

"Why?" Draco wondered suspiciously, holding up one envelope by a corner as if it would suddenly sprout teeth and bite him. Hermione shrugged, averting her eyes to a tea kettle, as if staring at Draco would give the whole thing away. Draco remained unconvinced.

"I don't know what it's for, they're you're friends," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but this whole thing smells fishy—you dropping all the pots, all these letters from my friends, me sleeping in." Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock.

"You can't possible blame the fact that you got drunk and slept in on _me_!"

"We'll see about that," Draco said, sliding his finger under the opening of one of the letters and sliding it out. Hermione tried to keep busy as he read it, though she couldn't help glancing at him occasionally to gauge his expression.

At first Draco seemed surprised—rereading the letter with an anxiety only produced by deep disbelief. Then, he tore into the other letters, reading them furiously as his face continued to grow redder and redder. Finally—when he was finished—he turned to Hermione, his rage almost palpable.

Hermione, for her part, could barely suppress the urge to giggle. Her plan was going perfectly.

"What the _hell _did you _do_?" Draco demanded through gritted teeth. Hermione put on the most impassive look she could manage and smiled broadly.

"Oh, you know," she said lightly, with a wave of her hand.

"No, I do _not _know! What the hell are all these people talking about?"

"I don't know—I didn't read them," Hermione said. Then, as if a thought had just come to mind, she smiled. "Oh, I _did _send a letter to Blaise last night though. Maybe it's in regard to that."

"'Maybe it's in regard to that'," Draco mimicked sarcastically. "What the hell did you write to Blaise for? What did you letter say?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I _know _you made a copy of it—you're Hermione Granger for crying out loud! Now give me a copy or tell me what it said!" Hermione smiled.

"Well, I _do _happen to have a copy right here—if you wanted to read it."

"Of _course _I do!" Draco snapped, grabbing the thin paper from Hermione's hands. He noticed her writing immediately and, trying to remain calm, he began to read:

_Dearest Blaise,_

_Seeing as you are Draco's best friend, I figured that I should start writing to you in order to begin cultivating a relationship. _

_As you know, Draco and I were made partners for this whole assignment and we are located in Paris, France. And, playing into the whole spirit of the city, Draco and I have started a relationship that has extended beyond friendship. We are now, as is popular around school, a couple and I expect that you and I will be growing closer and closer due to the amount of time I will be spending with Draco. _

_As Draco's best friend, I figured I should tell you first about our relationship, because, knowing Draco, he has yet to tell anyone (he is so forgetful, but much too sweet for me to take much notice!). I would greatly appreciate if you could send and owl around to a few of Draco's closest friends, letting them know the happy news. It would save me a lot of time and ink. _

_I know that we have not always been the closest of friends, and I hope that Draco's new relationship will work to remedy this tension between us. Draco has promised to show me around to all of the popular "Slytherin" hang outs and I am ensured that this will do wonders for my relationships amongst all of you. _

_Thank you for your kindness. I look forward to expanding upon our friendship! _

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

Draco dropped the letter, his whole body shaking with rage.

"Granger," he began slowly, "_what _is this?"

"Oh the letter?" Hermione said brightly, as if she found nothing wrong with it, "I just figured—well, since the little incident at the music store, your intentions have been startlingly clear. And since you obviously want a relationship, well, I thought I would alert your friends."

She was lying. That much was clear. Draco had never known Hermione Granger to lie, but it was clear she was doing it now and Draco couldn't figure out why. _Is this supposed to be some sort of revenge for the kiss? Some retaliation? I humiliated her and now she's humiliating me? _Draco thought to himself. _Clearly I can't just sit here and let her do this! I have to get her back. _

And then Draco knew what to do.

But he would write to Harry and Ron later. If it was a relationship she wanted, he was damned well going to give her one. Reaching out, Draco grabbed a startled Hermione and brought her close.

And then he began to kiss her.

* * *

**Authors Note: Nope, incase you were wondering, I haven't forgotten you guys or this fic! I've just been really busy lately, and I have 2 more days till holidays! Unfortunately, that hasn't stopped me working hard to the very end, I have yet another test tomorrow (Biology – in case you were wondering!) so I've been pushed to my limits. However, me and my beta have finally come up with a final plan, and if all goes well, this fic will have 35 chapters! How cool is that? Hahaha!**

**So, what can I already tell you about what's going to happen? Well, you will see some of Draco's and Hermione's life outside of Paris, and back in Hogwarts. There will be a tincy bit of angst near the end, but not enough to send you reeling backwards, and out of your chair! Er…what else? Hmm…there will be surprising revelations from Mr. Riley (you won't have seen this coming!) and that's about it!**

**Please don't forget to review, no offence, but I got a very disappointing amount last time! And they definitely inspire me to update sooner! Hahaha... )**

**xx mina**


	19. Jealous?

**Jealous?**

******  


* * *

Disclaimer: Ok, how about this...I don't own anything Potter related, and that goes for ALL the chapters in this fic. Thanks! -phew, got that over with!-

* * *

**

"So," Marie began brightly, as per her usual, "I've rented out the opera house for the Gala and I've made arrangements for catering, music and such, so I'm about done."

"And what do we know of cost?" Pierre asked, his tone concerned. He had agreed to meet Marie at the office to talk about the plans she had made but from the sounds of it, she had made more than plans—she had made a complete deficit of company funds.

Mr. Riley had assigned Pierre and Hermione as partners, but that had unfortunately left Marie on her own. With no guidance and no task load she was apt to opt out of most work, so Pierre had been given the task of keeping her busy. With an important gala coming up, Pierre had believed he found the perfect activity for her, but now he was nervous. He hadn't heard a peep from her for a few days, as she had been busy planning, but now Pierre was beginning to realize the cost of her silence.

"Does it matter?" Marie asked, furrowing her brow in an attractive manner, "Because we can't do anything about it now; I've put down deposits on everything."

"Marie," Pierre began, attempting to keep his voice level and cool, "you had better not make any mistakes, or else it's my fault. And if I get fired, I'm taking you down with me."

"Trust me," Marie grinned flippantly, "it's going to be good. Are you taking Hermione?"

"Are you taking Draco?" Pierre returned in an attempt to avoid the question.

"I want to, but I haven't asked him yet. What do you think he'll say?" Marie wondered, completely taking the bait. Pierre shrugged.

"I don't really know him. And besides that, the only one who can really answer that is him."

"Okay, fine. Are you asking her?" Marie asked in irritation. She had hoped that Pierre would reassure her of Draco's acceptance but of course he had to go and act practical. How typical.

"Do you think I should?" Pierre wondered aloud, though he knew better than to ask Marie, the eternal optimist. She was nice and everything but so positive that everyone would soon be living in a perfect, beautiful world where everyone was perfect and beautiful that it was sometimes hard to take her opinion seriously.

"Why do you keep answering me with questions?" Marie demanded, sighing heavily.

"Well why not? Just joking _mon petite_, you get so angry so quickly!" Pierre teased good-naturedly.

"I'm not angry!" Marie started to shout, but then she looked back at Pierre with a smile, "Don't you think Draco's the hottest thing in Paris right now?"

"You make him sound like an item of clothing," Pierre murmured, slightly irritated by his friends obsession with the silly blond boy.

Personally, he found it rather odd how Hermione and Draco had appeared all of sudden—out of no-where—and immediately managed to get jobs and become friends with people who he regarded as being quite high up on the social and business ladder. No one had bothered to question their background or history—they had just been accepted without question. Pierre remembered how hard he had had to work to get where he was, and yet, Hermione and Draco seemed to get everything straight away. Life was tough, he reminded himself, but yet he couldn't help but be irritated.

But even these irritations paled in comparison to Hermione.

There was something positively _magical_ about her. She was intelligent and beautiful in a very classic manner. From the work she was producing it was clear that she had talent in the art of persuasion, and when he read some of her arguments, he could feel himself willing to believe what she was saying. She had a very convincing way with words and despite his own feelings for her, he found it odd that she and Draco were not together. They always seemed as if there was something strange about the way they were so guarded around each other. One would think that living with someone would break those boundaries but clearly tension between the two remained, as if they were both in on some huge secret the rest of the world was blind to. There was definitely something that the two of them were hiding.

And he didn't like it.

* * *

Later that day, Marie found herself walking happily to Hermione and Draco's apartment. 

She knew she would find Draco there because he hadn't been at work. And, now that Marie thought about it, Draco was hardly _ever _at work. But this did not bother her, seeing as she had money enough for the two of them. And Draco didn't seem the type to really need to work that much either. He had an upper-class way about him—they way he talked, and acted—that was somewhat aristocratic.

Exactly the way she liked it.

With this happy thought weighing in her mind, Marie continued on toward the apartment and thought vaguely about how great it would be if she could go with Draco, and Hermione with Pierre.

Crossing the street, she saw Draco's apartment. She hoped he wouldn't mind her dropping by but even if he did, Marie wasn't terribly concerned.

It wasn't as if anything was going on up there.

* * *

Marie was about to knock on the door, when she noticed it was already open. Pushing it slightly so that she could fit through, Marie glanced around for Draco. At first she couldn't quite see him, but she could definitely hear something. Walking around to the kitchen, Marie's eyes widened at what she saw. 

Hermione and Draco were standing—with Hermione pressed up against one of the cupboards—their arms around each other. Draco was marking Hermione's mouth with tiny kisses and she was softly moaning his name.

Marie's eyes widened in shock. This couldn't be!

"Draco!" Marie yelled from the doorway. Both figures sprang apart, and stood guilty, facing the fuming Marie. "I can't believe this! You're cheating on me!"

"Um, technically, we were never going out," Draco pointed out after a minute, his voice strained, "I didn't know how I was going to tell you, but clearly now you know."

Marie stood there, gaping at the two of them. She had _never _expected this. Why she had never imagined this, Marie wasn't quite sure. She always thought Draco liked her—not Hermione. This came as quite a big shock, especially after she had done so much for the both of them to make them feel welcome. She could feel the tears pour down her eyes.

Draco, however, only saw a spoiled child standing in front of him, who was crying because she wasn't getting what she wanted. She looked pathetic, and if Draco was looking carefully he would have probably seen something of himself in the past in her. It irritated him that she was so _spoiled _and so pampered.

He was such a hypocrite.

Hermione was feeling terrible. Here was Marie, who she knew was obsessed with Draco, finding out them making out—and still in their night clothes! And the worst thing was that Hermione had not even tried to stop Draco. She had _enjoyed_ it and now they had been caught. But in a way, she was grateful. She had no idea what she would have done if Marie hadn't come in. She flinched with guilty pleasure.

But now she had to do something quick. But Draco got there first.

"So, I guess you now know that our relationship isn't completely platonic," Draco smirked, wrapping his arm around Hermione's waist. He kissed her gently on her forehead, and a little sniff emerged from Marie.

But Hermione had different ideas.

"It's not true!" she spluttered.

"Well it sure looks like it!" Marie screeched, "How could you do this to me Hermione?"

None of this, of course, was Draco's fault, Marie told herself—Hermione must have just sprung onto him. The bitch!

"No wait!" Hermione said, "I'm—I'm with Pierre!"

"What?" Draco and Marie choked in unison. This was new to the both of them—and Hermione.

"Yes! I don't know it's just—I've never kissed anyone before, so—I was just practicing!" Hermione blurted out, hoping Marie would fall for it.

And she did.

Her face visibly relaxed, and you could see that she was smirking at Hermione, as if she knew that Hermione was the perfect little virgin, and had never made out with anyone before. That explained it all.

Draco however, looked furious at Hermione for even suggesting it. This was a huge blow to his ego. For the first time in his life, a woman had rejected him—and for some stupid French guy!

He hated Pierre.

"Of course," Marie sighed in relief, "Why didn't you just say so! But how come Pierre didn't say anything to me?"

"He, um—didn't want you to be upset!" Hermione supplied, scolding herself for how stupid it sounded.

"Of course, well, I'll just go and tell him I'm cool with it," Marie smiled sweetly. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.

As if Pierre really cared what Marie thought about anything to do with his life.

"Bye!" Hermione said, shooing Marie out of the apartment before Draco could say anything. Closing, and then locking the door, she turned around and sighed.

"That was close," she said, "lucky us!" she smiled hesitantly. She hoped Draco would agree.

But by the looks of it, he didn't. He was furious.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay, but the site wasn't working for awhile! Did anyone else have the same problem?  
But on a more interesting note..._I've written the rest of the entire fic!_ (turns out to be 33 chapters!) Now all I have to do is send them off to the lovely pink-levicorpus (my beta)!**

**I hope you will all like what's to come, and although this isn't my favorite chapter, many interesting ones will follow from this! Don't be put off!**

**I've got the chapters waiting patiently to be uploaded…now all you gotta do is review! I'm sure that'll convince me to put them up ;-) Hahaha**

**xx mina**

_Next chapter - Draco decides to humiliate Hermione infront of Pierre on their date. And how will this completely change Hermione's and Draco's relationship - good...or bad?_


	20. Out Now!

**Out Now!**

* * *

_I should probably tell Pierre about this_, Hermione thought to herself while trying to get as far away as she could from a seething Malfoy.

Flipping through her purse, Hermione attempted to locate her cell phone which had been beeping noisily all week, to Hermione's deep chagrin. She had finally taken to ignoring the thing and found that her week proceeded much better. Now though, Hermione struggled with the tiny buttons until Pierre's number came up and she was able to send out a quick message

**Hey Pierre—wanted to know if you were interested in going on a date tonight?**

Pressing send, Hermione sank down on the sofa, hoping Pierre would reply soon. He did:

**Hi, and of course! Is this a real date, or business? Hope the former :-) Meet you tonight, at your apartment?**

---

**Yes, it is a date. Do you mind? **

---

**Of course not! I'll be waiting outside at 9:30, wear something nice, we'll be going somewhere quite upscale, my treat. Till then!**

---

**See you then!**

* * *

"Oh god," Hermione moaned, "why? Why did you have to kiss me?"

"What?! This isn't my fault!" Draco howled, "If you hadn't acted like such a dirty little slu-"

"Don't you _dare _finish that sentence you hypocrite; calling me a slut when you've fucked half the girls in our year!"

"Wrong Granger," Draco shrugged pompously, "And you should talk—everyone knows you've done Potter or Weasel at least once each and probably at the same time to boot."

Hermione didn't say anything, but as she stepped closer, and narrowed the space between them, Draco knew she was about to slap him. Just as her hand was about to connect to her face, he grabbed her wrist. Both still blazing with anger, Hermione did not cower as he tightened his grip. She knew he would _never_ hit a girl.

He walked away from her, and just before he slammed the bedroom door shut, he muttered just loud enough for her to hear:

"Oh and by the way—I haven't shagged half the girls in our year. It's more like three-quarters". Hermione seethed.

_Bastard_.

* * *

Draco sat in the bedroom later that night, seething with rage. He was trying to think of how he could get back at Hermione for the letter she had sent to Blaise and her avoidant reaction to have been caught with him. The only problem was that Draco knew he wasn't really skilled in the art of words—at least not as much as Hermione was. He preferred action and immediacy and didn't care to replicate Hermione's exact stunt. He wanted something big and shocking and he didn't want it to take forever. He was not a patient man.

Therefore, he had to think of the perfect thing to do in order to piss off. Hermione He knew that something degrading toward women would probably annoy her most. Hermione wasn't a real feminist but she was always complaining about how women weren't seen as smart as men in the Wizarding community. Still, Draco couldn't seem to find the inspiration to do something terribly degrading toward women anyway. He did after all have a mother who he loved very much. But what else was there? She always came across as an uptight bookworm so maybe some music, booze and a party would get her goat. Draco eagerly recorded this onto his awaiting parchment.

And he needed to embarrass her in front of someone. Preferably a certain _French_ someone.

Draco smirked devilishly.

Payback time.

* * *

Hermione decided to wear the dress she had bought to impress Malfoy. It all seemed so childish now that she looked back at it but the dress was nice and Hermione saw no reason why she should discriminate against it just because of its original use. So, glancing in the mirror, Hermione pulled the dress over her head for the billionth time and smoothed it out.

"Aren't you supposed to be ready?" Draco asked from the sofa when Hermione walked out.

"I am ready," Hermione said with a confidence she didn't really feel.

"Aren't you going to put on any clothes?"

"Very funny," Hermione snapped, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wouldn't voice it aloud—and especially not to Draco—but she had been feeling the exact same way.

"What? I'm just trying to warn you that maybe someone outside is going to get the wrong impression about you," Draco began loftily, to Hermione's great annoyance.

"Your _jokes_ are getting worse all the time," Hermione pointed out, "I'm staring to wonder if you've found a soft spot for me, in the ice you call your heat."

"Even if I did, at least I wouldn't go shouting it about, after a mere two beers" Draco shot back smugly.

"Yeah, well," Hermione began awkwardly, realizing she had nothing to say, "I have to go."

"Good."

"Is there anything I can—,"

"No," Draco said, cutting her off before she could offer her services. "Have a _great _time tonight."

Hermione paused for a second, confused. She didn't know why he was acting so—nonchalant about the whole thing. If she didn't know any better she would have thought he had gone batty in the head as he seemed to be fluctuating between anger and ambivalence. At least when he acted like an asshole it was easier to retaliate, but this way—he wasn't even really doing anything wrong.

"Okay, well—bye then," Hermione murmured, grabbing her coat and heading out of the apartment. Draco watched her go, waiting until she had shut the door before staring back to the TV.

"And good fucking riddance."

* * *

"Oh Pierre," Hermione gushed later that night, "I had such a great time tonight!"

The first few minutes of the date had started off awkwardly but eventually Hermione had grown comfortable with her coworker and had found herself actually enjoying the evening quite thoroughly. Pierre too seemed to be having a great time and kept ordering more drinks for their table. Everything was going great.

However, with Draco's last few comments in mind, Hermione tried her best not to get too carried away by the drinks and the food and tried to keep her wits about her.

Fun had been had though and Hermione was so caught up in her laughter that she didn't even notice the dimmed, shimmering lighting coming out of her apartment. Pierre, who found himself a little more aware of the surrounding, thought he could hear a faint pounding from upstairs as he led Hermione to her apartment.

Hermione giggled, and whispered to Pierre, "I knew the neighbors under us weren't in a completely chaste relationship!"

Smiling at her, Pierre pressed the button for the lift and together they rode to Hermione's apartment as the music grew noticeably louder. The louder it got, the worse the feeling in Hermione stomach grew until they were at her apartment door and nearly deafened by the noise.

"I knew it," Hermione grumbled, struggling to be heard over the music. She looked at Pierre apologetically, "I better deal with this on my own."

Not wanting things to be too awkward, Hermione gave Pierre a quick kiss on the lips, and twisted the key in the lock. He gave her a sympathetic look, and she grimaced. Pierre tried to peer inside to see what was going on, but Hermione closed the door too quickly.

This was something between her, and Draco.

* * *

A disco-ball had somehow appeared in the living room, reflecting the candle lights in the room. Music was pounding from the sound system, and Hermione couldn't even think straight with all the people and commotion around her.

People were draped over the furniture, making out, getting high, or just drinking beer. A few were dancing in a deranged manner, and as Hermione tried to get to the speakers, some guy tried to grab her waist and pull her next to him. He said something to her in French, which she wouldn't have understood even if he hadn't of slurred his words together. Dodging him, she pulled out the plug to the CD player, and everyone turned to stare at her.

"I want everyone OUT NOW!" Hermione screeched, staring past all the blank, strange faces for Draco. The room was a complete mess and Hermione felt dirty just standing in the middle of all of it. _If tere was ever a time for a clean up spell, this would be it, _Hermione thought to herself, discouraged that she no longer had her wand. Still, once people were gone Hermione managed to wade through the mess to the bedroom door; the one place Hermione dreaded entering.

She knew he would be in there but was she ready to face him?

* * *

Tentatively opening the door, Hermione peered around the entry and gasped at what she saw. This was obviously some sort of VIP section to the party because there were only a few people in here, receiving what Draco would surely call a 'luxury service'.

And there he was, in the middle of it all, lying elegantly on the bed, king of the world—receiving a lap-dance, from one of the many half-naked women prancing around the room.

Draco looked up just in time to see Hermione's horrified face and he knew in an instant; he had _seriously_ pissed Hermione Granger off.


	21. Guilty

**Guilty**

* * *

Draco couldn't have been happier.

Smirking in contentment, he pushed the girls out of his way and bellowed for everyone to leave. Hermione stood in the door, shaking with anger. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to pounce on Draco and tear him to bits.

Draco causally slung his legs over the bed and stood up. Hermione could see him sneering in victory as he walked over to the door frame to where she was standing. Leaning on the frame, he looked at her with mock confusion.

"Is there something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"No _Malfoy,_ nothing at all," Hermione shot back, matching his calm tone.

"Good," and with that he shut the door in her face.

Which was good, because Hermione didn't want him to see her crying.

* * *

Hermione lay on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, wondering how this was going to be sorted out. Vengeance? Some sort of payback? No—she was so sick of this. There constant rivalry to be _better _than the otherfrustrated her beyond words and above all, it wasn't really in her personality. She liked the competition of academics and education—not who could best the other person through malicious means. She was above this and if Draco insisted on lowering himself to that level, then so be it. He could be a child all by himself.

Hermione bit her lip knowing that what she was about to suggest, would either ruin, or strengthen any relationship they had.

* * *

When Hermione woke up, Draco had already left for work. It was a Monday morning, which meant they had been in Paris for exactly a week though to Hermione it felt like years. She felt like a completely different person since arriving.

The clock read 10:20, which meant Hermione had ten minutes to get ready and go to the office. She sighed, mentally preparing herself for Marie.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Work passed uneventfully and Hermione felt as though it was beginning to mirror her life. Tiptoeing around Marie, trying to avoid her other colleagues and traipsing blindly through endless days of mindlessness. It was all so tedious that Hermione felt as if she was just going through the motions. Tonight though, Hermione resolved to make things different.

Because tonight would be the night.

She walked over to the ticket-booth, and bought tickets for a band that were coming to the area; a small venue it was true, but close to the apartment and it would easily meet one their assignments. Hermione wondered what Draco would think of her proposition.

She entered the apartment, smiling widely. She wanted to impress Draco and offer the tickets as some sort of peace treaty between the two of them. Hopefully that would make things all better.

At least, Hermione hoped it would.

* * *

"So," Hermione began, "I bought tickets for a concert tonight."

"That's great," Draco snapped dismissively.

"I was hoping we could, you know, go together."

Draco paused; thinking about exactly what Hermione was trying to say. It wasn't too hard to figure out: she was over it.

"Yeah sure I'll go, when is it?"

"Eight, but I have to go

"Yeah, sure no problem. Where is it?"

"Here's the address," Hermione said, handing him his ticket, and pointing to it. "I guess I better go then,."

Hermione stood up to leave, and grabbed the camera and her clothes she would change into.

"See you there," he said, grabbing the remote and flicking the TV on.

"Bye" she smiled, closing the door. She sighed brightly. It had worked.

_Score_

* * *

"Here's some papers you needed for the case," Hermione said, handing Mr. Riley the stack of papers she had been working on the last few days. "I was wondering if you had any time to give me some of those French lessons you offered me when I first arrived."

It was only six o'clock, and Hermione had nothing better to do. She didn't want Draco to think she was _desperate_ to go to the concert with him.

Even if she really was.

"Of course, my dear," Mr. Riley beamed brightly. "So I take it you only know the basics…."

* * *

Hermione handed in her ticket, and thanked the lady behind the window as she was let into the building.

She walked down the aisle, and scuttled past a few people before reaching her seat. Draco was obviously not there yet, because she had made sure that their seats were together. They couldn't very well work things out sitting alone and Hermione didn't relish the idea of being packed between two strangers. Hermione checked her watch—only ten minutes until the show started yet Draco had never been one to arrive early and so Hermione found that she wasn't worried by his absence.

Hermione sat down, glancing at the other people around her. It had been such a long time since she had been to a concert, and now that she was here, she was glad this was one of the assignments they were given. She loved the anonymity that came with the events as hundreds of people streamed through the doors; being just one insignificant person in a sea of many.

Everyone was happy, roaring and screaming in excitement as the band finally came onstage but Hermione found herself glancing around for Draco. He still hadn't shown up and Hermione really wanted him to see something so absolutely _Muggle._ Wizards had bands and concerts, but they were so much more civilized than Muggles and because the majority of teens were at Hogwarts, there was never any sort of chaos surrounding the event.

No, Draco would like this.

If only he turned up.

The band had now entered the stage, and everyone was cheering with approval as they strummed the first few chords of the opening song. Peering over the heads, Hermione searched for Draco. She checked her watch, and saw that it was ten past seven. Slightly surprised by his tardiness, she whooped with excitement as the band took the microphones and started singing. Hermione was elated as the band continued to launch into song after song.

It just would have been so much better if Draco had bothered to show up.

* * *

After another twenty minutes, Hermione couldn't take it. Maybe he was standing outside because he had lost his ticket? Maybe he didn't know where to enter? Maybe…

Maybe he just hadn't turned up.

She walked back to the desk, and asked the women behind it if maybe a tall, blonde guy had come here. She shook her head, saying she had seen tons of people who fitted that description. Sighing with disappointment, Hermione returned to her seat. She sat down glumly, the only one in the whole stadium not on her feet.

And she was probably the only one crying.

* * *

A miserable two hours later, Hermione made her way back home. She called for a cab, and clumsily stepped inside. Staring outside, she gazed at the still wide awake city. The streetlights seemed to wink at her as if trying to tell her it was ok, maybe even a mistake.

It could be. He could have a perfectly decent reason for him not turning up.

If only Hermione could think of what it could be.

* * *

Hermione opened the door apprehensively, as if expecting to find Draco dying in the middle of the floor or tied to a chair as an unfortunate byproduct of burglary.

But he didn't he even turn his head from the TV as she greeted him softly, realizing that he wasn't hurt—he was just cruel. Hermione's lip shook slightly as she stood next to the sofa, staring at him, waiting for him to explain or say something.

He didn't even glance at her.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, Hermione slowly turned away from him, walking to the bedroom and closing the door.

Draco waited until he heard the door shut before turning to stare at the vacant spot Hermione had just occupied. And it was in that instant that he knew he had officially fucked up any chance he had with Hermione Granger.

And he had never felt guiltier.

* * *

**Hey, sorry it's been a while! I just finished my exams so I'm SO happy! I'm off to London on Tuesday and I have a festival to go to on Monday! Life is good!**

**Please review! Oh and there's a new award site called "quill to parchment", check it out! It's pretty cool, but needs a lot more advertisement – so go tell all your friends!**

**xx**


	22. The Great Mistake

**The Great Mistake**

* * *

Hermione didn't bother locking the door as she knew Draco wouldn't bother coming inside. He didn't care about her. She was just _another_ girl who had fallen for his _stupid _looks and his_ stupid_ charms. Why couldn't she be strong, and push him away? It just felt as if every time she tried they ended up closer and every time she tried to pull him closer he back further away. It was a lose-lose situation. 

Draco switched off the TV and nervously paced around the kitchen before deciding to enter the bedroom. Hermione had her back to the door and was sitting on the bed. Draco couldn't see her face but he guessed it was miserable.

"Hermione," Draco began nervously in an attempt to gauge her level of anger before delving into an apologetic monologue, "are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Hermione replied hollowly and Draco couldn't ignore the shot of pain and guilt that raced through his body as he realized he was the one who had made her that way. "Can you just leave me alone please?" she asked, trying to refrain from shouting and screaming at him.

"I'm really sorry," Draco blurted out, ignoring the hit his pride was taking, "if I had known how hurt—,"

Draco had stepped toward the bed but stopped suddenly when Hermione curled away from him—a women was recoiling from his touch for the first time.

"Hermione, please," Draco begged, realizing that he had to make her forgive him. He couldn't stand seeing her so...weak. He didn't want this on his conscience. Whenever they had argued with each other, he always just expected her to reply back with something as equally painful - but now he could not win the battle knowing she would go down like this...

"Just leave," Hermione said quietly, though her tone was sure. She was going to say more but her voice faltered and Hermione found herself choking through a sob.

Draco slowly lowered himself onto the bed, trying to comfort her but Hermione squirmed away uneasily.

"Draco just—_stop_! Don't _touch _me!" she pleaded hysterically. Hermione had never felt this kind of anger flow through her, but she _had _to get Draco to leave. "Please," she whispered, her voice full of sadness, "please, just leave."

Draco was tempted to leave but he knew better. He knew that when people said to leave them alone they really meant _stay._ She was the most vulnerable now, and he couldn't leave her to suffer on her own all night. He couldn't be the reason she was in this way.

Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione's tiny form and clung to her with all his strength. She squirmed uneasily, shrieking to get away from him but after a few minutes she grew weary and instead just relaxed into his arms, allowing attempts to escape turned into small hiccups, and occasional sniffs.

They lay there, and for a moment Draco let one hand slip away from her fragile torso, to switch off the lights, and pull the blankets over them. She squirmed away from him again, but he was an iron clamp on her. After a while she relaxed, and he could hear her breathing steady. He didn't know if she was sleeping, because her face was turned away from him. But just as he thought she was no longer awake, she flipped round, and put her arms around his neck for support. She started crying again, and she closed the gap between them, their bodies intertwined. He pulled her even closer, and she rested her head on his chest, her tears falling onto his shirt. She needed someone now, to tell her it would be ok, even if it meant opening up to the person who had made her feel this way. She needed his touch, his warmth, his strength…

She needed someone to love.

* * *

Hermione ran out of the apartment, leaving for work. She needed to get as far away as she could from Draco. She couldn't figure out her feelings, and for the first time in her life, she had questions which couldn't be answered by a book. And she hated that feeling—the feeling of ignorance. She had always had complete control of her life, and now because of Draco she felt all her feelings and senses being tried and tested by him. He was pushing her to and beyond her limits. 

Entering the Bank, Hermione ran up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, she needed any excuse to _not_ think. She had to push reality away, for today at least. Maybe she could book a hotel room, and spend the next two weeks there, if it meant staying away from _him_.

She reached the office out of breath, receiving an odd look from Marie, who was surprisingly, earlier than her. Giving her an apologetic glance, Hermione proceeded to submerge herself completely in her work.

Any excuse to make it all go away.

* * *

Exhausted, but feeling better, Hermione left the office, receiving a few smiles, and murmurs of 'she's the only one who _really_ works here'. She had only ever worked this hard when she had been studying for her O.W.L.'s, and she grinned at her own success. But now she was dreading returning to the apartment. 

She dawdled a bit round the shops, avoiding going home for as long as possible. Gazing longingly at the clothes in the shops, she accidentally bumped into something.

Or someone.

"Pierre!" she smiled, "How are you? I literally just finished all my papers today!"

It was silly, she knew, trying to achieve gratification from a colleague, but Hermione was proud of her achievements and didn't care who knew about them.

"Great!" Pierre congratulated quickly, "I got some of it from Mr. Riley today, so if you have the rest now…"

"Yes, it's in here," Hermione said, fumbling through her bag until she found and handed over the thick wad of papers she had been focused on all day. He glanced briefly at the papers, before glancing back at her.

"This is all amazing, but do you have the opening statement anywhere?" he wanted to know.

"Oh no! I must have left it in the apartment!" Hermione sighed. "Can I give it to you tomorrow?"

"Well, we can just go get it now if you want," Pierre suggested. Hermione shrugged.

He was good-looking, and was _much _more sensitive than Draco was. And yet, she preferred Draco over him, and she couldn't figure out why. Pierre was everything Draco wasn't. But that was the problem—he wasn't Draco.

"Sure, let's go," Hermione said. It was already getting quite late and Hermione didn't relish walking around in the dark all alone. They made their way happily through the streets towards the apartment, smiling at one another. Hermione opened the door, laughing at some joke Pierre had made but found that she instantly regretted taking him up into the apartment when she caught sight of what Draco had done.

"Hermione?" Draco called from the kitchen, "I wanted to talk to you, about what happened last night..." Draco stopped short when he caught sight of Pierre standing protectively over a smiling Hermione.

"Draco," Hermione asked quietly, "did you get these for me?"

She walked to the living room and saw a magnificent bouquet of white roses, standing in an elegant vase. She pulled them close to her, and smelled it's soothing odour. Taking out the card she read:

_Hermione,_

_I have reserved us a table at the Ritz for dinner tonight - to talk about last night._

She turned to smile at Draco, but it was not returned. He was pulling on his jacket, and he had slammed down the wine he was pouring for the two of them, throwing the glasses down at Pierre's feet. He looked furious at Pierre, and Hermione realized that Draco thought that her and Pierre were no longer 'just friends'.

"Well done for beating me too it." he hissed at Pierre.

And with that, he stormed out of the apartment.

* * *

Hermione scrambled around the apartment, frantically searching for the papers. Finding them, she threw them at Pierre. She hastily apologized, and explained everything, including her feelings towards him. Not waiting for a reply, she ran outside, hoping to catch Draco, but found his reputation as somewhat athletic was well deserved. 

He had vanished into the city, and Hermione had little hope of ever finding him again.

Running frantically through the streets, Hermione prayed that she would somehow be able to find Draco. She_ had_ to. She refused to let this be the end to—to whatever it was that they had shared over the last week. From their first day in Paris to the first time he showed possessiveness over her to the hospital to the letters and everything else, Hermione couldn't remember how life would be without the angsty little blond in the background.

She loved him goddamnit.

Hermione had run so far from everything, she had ended up on the Champs-Elysées. She paused, to catch her breath, only to have it taken away again by the sheer beauty of it. The lights from the shops towering above her sparkled and glowed in the darkness hovering above the city and despite the time, hundreds of people hoarded the streets, laughing and talking to each other, their breath forming patches of mist before them.

Most were holding hands, or smiling at someone next to each other. Hermione felt a horrible pang of realization, that she was the only one who was alone here. The cars raced up and down the streets, and in the distance she could see the lights of the Arc du Triomphe.

And there he was.

She ran through the crowd, pushing and shoving the pedestrians away, calling out his name but he didn't turn around.

Hermione lunged at him, enveloping him in a bone-breaking hug. He turned to face her, and she clapped a mouth over her mouth, yanking her arms back.

Wrong person.

"Excuse me monsieur," Hermione muttered awkwardly as the boy stared at her strangely before storming away. Feeling embarrassed, and on the verge of tears, Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly and thought of going back to the apartment.

Hermione paused when she heard the vague sound of laughter ringing from behind her. Spinning round, she saw the _real_ Draco Malfoy standing there, watching her with obvious amusement. Smiling embarrassedly, Hermione walked over to him, trying to act cool and composed, but quivering inwardly. It seemed like forever until she reached him, and once she did, she needn't of worried.

He knew what he was doing.

Pulling her into a romantic hug, Draco held her tight as he spun her around. They stood there for a few moments, entwined in each other's arms as onlookers sighed at the "romance of it all".

Draco thought about the last week—how he had never expected this to come from it. He never thought he would ever get together with the only girl he could never have. The Mudblood Gryffindor. And yet, here he was. Holding her made him feel like he was pouring some of him into her, as if they both understood the hardships they had to face. There was something so dangerous, and unacceptable about standing next to her, the constant reminder that someone he had thought to be beneath him was better than him in every way possible. Nothing, could come between them. Unless...well. Unless they_ actually _became involved.

But for now it was perfect.

* * *

**A/N: They wish. It's only going to get worse - and as the great Nelly Furtado said, 'All Good Things (Come to an End)'****. Relish the romance ladies and gentlemen, it's going to go away in the oh-not-so-distant future. (but, sssh...don't worry, it will come back!)**

**RSVP - Review Si Vous Plait! x**


	23. Green

**Green**

* * *

When Hermione woke up she found she was face down on the couch. It was a thoroughly unpleasant experience and it took Hermione a good five minutes to assure herself that her nose had not introverted into her face—a fact she only came to believe when she smelled something putrid coming from the kitchen. Fearing that the whole apartment was being overtaken by some fetid sludge, Hermione raced across the room to face whatever was stinking up the whole place. When she got to the doorway of the kitchen however, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Draco was cooking breakfast.

"Good afternoon," he said brightly, "I'm making toast!"

"Oh really," Hermione said in disbelief, struggling not to wrinkle her nose at the scent, "well normal Muggles don't use a coffee machine to toast the bread." She smiled briefly as he took his hand, and guided it over to the toaster. "Honestly, after almost two weeks you are still completely clueless!"

She looked at his face, which had crumpled slightly as she had scolded him. He had obviously tried his best - and this was the way she thanked him?

"I'm sorry Draco" she smiled apologetically.

"I suppose I can forgive you," Draco said after a minute, attempting to sound angry but failing to hide the amusement from his eyes, "as long as you give me a kiss."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione gave Draco a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Oh that was lovely, _mother_," he said sarcastically, "I hardly felt that!"

"_Fine_," Hermione groaned in mock-aggravation, grabbing Draco by the shirt and pulling him close. The last thing she saw before their lips met were Draco's surprised eyes as she dragged him close.

Two minutes later Hermione pulled back, her eyebrows raised quizzically.

"Felt that?"

* * *

Over the slightly-mangled toast, Hermione and Draco discussed the tasks they still had left on their list. It wasn't a daunting list, but with the little time they had left, it was going to be a hard fit. Taking the list with the assignments, they wrote down what they still had left to do:

Arrange transport back to Hogwarts

Dine at 3 more places

Make a piece of furniture

Have a discussion in French

Go to a French movie

Invite several friends round for a dinner.

"Right, well," Hermione began studiously, "we have six days left here, and Friday evening we have the Gala."

"And you're taking Pierre?" Draco asked playfully, though Hermione thought she could sense a hint of curiosity in his tone as well.

"I might if you don't keep your mouth shut," Hermione shot back teasingly, "so which of the assignments should we do today?"

"I think we could probably make some furniture or something," Draco suggested, "but knowing us, it will probably take up most of the day."

"It's a pity I can never choose the guys who are good with their hands," Hermione shrugged, mockingly. Draco's pointed look made him look far-from-amused.

"If you knew what I could do with just _one_ of my fingers," he muttered, but Hermione stopped him.

"I meant _making _stuff with your hands, idiot," she laughed. "I saw a store close by. We can go as soon as we're finished here," Hermione said, gesturing to the food.

"Sure," Draco said, "fine by me."

"Great, let me just go get changed," she said, standing up from the table and going to get some clothes other than the ones she had spent the entire night in.

"And maybe afterwards I can show you how skilled my hands really are," Draco called after her, a mischievous smirk playing out across his face. Hermione laughed out loud, raising an eyebrow at the implications of Draco's words.

"We'll see."

* * *

"So—what should we buy?"

Hermione asked twenty minutes later after they had arrived at the hardware store. Hermione had thought choosing something would be easy but after nearly half an hour of walking up and down the aisles, full of boxes waiting to be opened, they had still not been able to decide on anything.

"A bed maybe? Those look easy," Hermione thought aloud. Draco smiled eagerly.

"And I think we should try it out afterwards—to ensure the quality of our work of course!" Draco called, from over the pile of chairs.

"Funny," she murmured, flicking over the catalog book. "Oh wait—look at this table! It's perfect!"

"You can do it on a table too I suppose—though not as comfortable," he said, walking around a large display. A few people turned to look at him and gave him a disapproving looks, to which he quickly mumbled, "Well it's true."

Shaking her head and giving him a stern look, Hermione grabbed him and pulled him over to the table she was talking about.

"Why is everything about you to do with sex!" she hissed.

"I'm a man, I have a duty to fulfill my needs," he said defensively.

"Yes, well you don't have to go shouting it about," she returned.

'Hardly shouting," he murmured and was about to elucidate further when Hermione shot him an evil glare, which silenced him.

* * *

"Right well, it looks pretty good," Hermione decided, staring critically at the table they had just finished making. As it turned out, it hadn't been much of a challenge, but even so, Draco ended up doing far more than she had. Who knew he actually knew what he was doing?

Hermione took a step back and nodded approvingly.

"Now we just need to paint it," Draco said, taking out the pot of green paint (he had been adamant about the color, insisting if it were up to Hermione she would choose something "ridiculous" like red or gold) they had bought, along with brushes.

"That's the easy bit," Hermione said, struggling to open the can. She glanced at Draco and gave him an apologetic look. Smiling, he pulled the lid off with one hand, whilst shaking his head at her.

She dipped her brush in the paint and found she was at a loss for something to draw. She had flourished with her studies but had never had any inclinations toward artistry and found she had nothing of worth to inscribe upon the table. Finally, feeling the weight of time pressing in on her, she decided on something easy and familiar and wrote her name on the table.

"Looks good in green," Draco commented softly and Hermione couldn't help but blush, though she didn't know quite what the implication was.

That's what it was with Draco, Hermione decided, musing quietly to herself. He was so enigmatic that it was hard to ever fully decode what he was saying when it came to feelings. Physical things, that was easy. He demanded what he wanted, and he rejected what he disliked. But when it came to things like the future or anything to do with words or feelings, he became confusing and elusive, using words that only he really understood and that were foreign to everyone else.

"I guess," Hermione agreed, although she was still curious as to the meaning behind his commentary. She dipped the brush into the paint and drew a large smiley face right under her name. Draco watched her carefully before using his own brush to slosh paint all over her drawing.

"Hey!" Hermione cried, "there was some serious skill used to create that!"

Draco merely smirked and continued painting over it until it had completely disappeared below the slosh of green paint. Hermione followed suit until they had completely finished the table and were preparing to begin the second coat when Hermione dipped her brush in the paint, and dotted Draco's nose with it.

"Thanks!" he said sarcastically. She replaced her brush with her finger, which she swirled in the can, and then put on Draco's face. She drew a little heart, and just when she was done, he grabbed her wrist.

Draco dragged Hermione close to him, claiming her mouth with his own. It started slow but as the osculation continued, the harder it was to resist the other. Draco grasped at Hermione fiercely as she clung to him with a passion she never realized she possessed. Draco moved her until they were both against the table, leaning heavily for support. It was until Draco pulled away, gasping for breath, that they stopped.

"I get the table," Draco panted heavily, staring at Hermione. She wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"Fine with me, but why?" she asked, swinging her legs playfully.

"So I can have at least one imprint of your ass on my furniture," Draco shot back with his infamous smirk. Hermione jumped up as if burned and looked at the mess she had made of the table that they had toiled over for the majority of the afternoon. There it was, basking in it's full green glory …

Her ass.


	24. Getting Ready

**Getting Ready**

* * *

After the pleasant meal from the night before, Hermione and Draco were happy to have crossed another item off their list of things to do. So with that gratifying thought in mind, Draco had headed off to work early and Hermione found herself at home with nothing to do. She had finished most of her work with Pierre and the thought of sitting in the office with nothing to do all day was not an appealing one. So, with thoughts of productivity burning in her mind, Hermione decided to book the tickets back to Hogwarts and schedule another lesson with Mr. Riley.

Hermione and Draco had made plans to have a French conversation upon his return and since it would count for a grade, Hermione had committed herself to her usual excellence and wanted to ensure that she was ready.

Hermione pulled out her laptop and quickly pulled up two of the cheapest flights back to Hogwarts—though actually making it all the way there would provide a challenge. The flight would take them to a small airport about a mile from the train station, but Hermione assumed they would be able to make it to the train without trouble. So, with the reservations in place, Hermione set her laptop aside and walked out to the balcony.

Below her, people were walking around the square, gazing into tiny shops and talking brightly in the mid-morning warmth. The Ritz was always bustling with people coming and going, living, absorbing the beauty and the popularity of the square. Cars buzzed down streets, people called out to each other over the din of the crowds, and bright laughter was tossed around from all corners. Hermione watched the scene below her with a slow tranquility, loving the hubbub surrounding the square, and feeling as if she could watch the ever-changing scene below her for an eternity.

A sudden sorrow overtook Hermione as she realized for the first time that she didn't want to return to Hogwarts. It was the first time she had ever shuddered at the possibility of returning to the grandeur of the school and Hermione wondered if the new feeling was a testament to the person she had become because of the assignment. Before, Hogwarts had always been an escape from the mundane trivialities of her normal life with her parents but now—now she had experienced something completely unlike anything she had ever gone through before and she found that she was reluctant to give it up.

Hermione felt confident that she would _never forget _what she had experienced over the past two weeks, nor did she want to. Hermione hoped that one day she would be able to return to Paris, for fun, and not for school. She had become so accustomed to the city life and found that she could hardly remember what she had found so entrancing about her old life back at Hogwarts.

Hermione paused for a moment, considering her friends. She was surprised to realize that she hadn't thought about them as much as she had initially thought she would. Feeling guilty for not having stayed in touch with her friends, Hermione decided that she would send everyone a few letters when she had the time. She had just been so busy. Hermione sighed, regretting the day she would have to leave Paris.

Little did she know how soon that day would come.

* * *

"Well Miss. Granger," Mr. Riley said about an hour into their lesson, "You've progressed very much! I'm proud of you—a true _mademoiselle_!" 

"_Merci_," Hermione replied with a large smile, shuffling the pile of notes she had compiled for herself and Draco.

"So how've you been coping with your roommate?" Mr. Riley wondered conversationally, handing Hermione a tall glass of water.

Hermione accepted the glass gratefully and took a small sip, recalling her first conversation with Mr. Riley and how annoyed she had been with Draco. She had said that they were barely friends and now—well, now Hermione could hardly imagine what things would be like without him.

"It's been going a lot better lately," Hermione admitted softly in an attempt to sound casual, though her deep rouge suggested a deeper relationship that Mr. Riley seemed to pick up on immediately.

"Ah, I see," he smiled, "I understand. I slightly expected it, you know—two teens staying alone for three weeks—it would have been surprising had you two stayed angry!"

Laughing, Hermione nodded. "I'm very happy—Paris has done a lot to us."

"Well, it's not called the 'city of love' for no reason," Mr. Riley pointed out with a friendly wink. "And this Draco Mallory seems—,"

"Malfoy" Hermione corrected automatically, "It's Draco _Malfoy_."

Mr. Riley's smile fell immediately as a curious stare replaced his formerly-jovial expression. His face paled slightly, as if he was just realizing something—something _big. _Hermione watched the transformation curiously and was about to ask if there was something she could get for him when he muttered,

"Malfoy…Lucius' son."

"Yes," Hermione frowned, how did he know?

Mr. Riley stood up quickly, his legs bumping into the table and setting it slightly off balance. Hermione grabbed for her water before it was upset and was surprised when Mr. Riley began to shuffle her toward the door. Still frowning, Hermione left, if only to appease the ruffled man, and walked back to her apartment in confusion. Clearly, Mr. Riley knew who Lucius was and knew the implications of the Malfoy family name. But if that was the case—,

_No, _Hermione decided, _that's impossible. _

* * *

"Hey," Draco called from the door, "I'm back!" 

"You're early?" Hermione commented, walking out from the balcony. She had sat on it all afternoon, hoping that Mr. Riley would come out at some point and explain his erratic behavior from earlier, but that had not been the case, so all Hermione had gained was a slightly sunburn on her face.

"I quit," Draco relayed easily, to Hermione's surprise.

"What?" She shrieked incredulously, "Why?"

"Hermione," Draco began coolly, "I'm never going to have to work in my entire life, so why should I start now? Besides, every job comes an end eventually—I'm just speeding up that process."

"I suppose," Hermione murmured, failing to see the logic in Draco's plan, "but won't it mark us down?"

Draco laughed, shrugging off Hermione's worry. "Life isn't all about grades you know."

"You don't understand," Hermione said darkly, a scowl apparent on her features.

"Enlighten me then," Draco challenged, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"It's because of you," Hermione snapped, "you had no idea how awful it felt every time you called me a Mudblood. I had to beat you academically because it was the only way to show you that I wasn't inferior. It was the only way to prove to everyone that the stereotypes they maintain about Muggleborns aren't correct!"

There was silence while Draco took stock of Hermione's comment. Hermione watched him, slightly embarrassed by her admission, but adamant about it nonetheless. She wanted to know what he was thinking but his face remained startlingly passive as he mulled over her comment.

"I see," he said simply after another beat passed in cold silence, "should we get on with the next assignment?"

Hermione sighed, mutely accepting the offer to move on to another topic. What had she expected anyway, Hermione wondered, an apology?

"_Bonjour, j'mappelle Hermione. Et toi_? _Comment tu-t'apelle_?" Hermione said glancing at Draco before turning her attentions to the camera to make sure it was recording properly.

"Err…._j'mappelle Draco. J'ai 17 ans, quel-age et tu_?" Draco muttered awkwardly. He didn't sound terribly confident, but it was clear that he was trying his best.

"_Moi aussi_! Hermione replied enthusiastically, "_Que faites-vous_?"

"_J'aime faire des tours magiques_," Hermione smiled, she knew that McGonagall, or whoever else would be watching their clip, would appreciate her last comment.

Hermione and Draco continued the awkward exchange for a few minutes before Draco set his down, clearly preparing his own dialogue.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, setting her script down. Draco smiled devilishly.

"I think we should turn off the camera now."

"Why?" Hermione asked, glancing down at her script. Had she forgotten something? Was her grammar wrong? Hermione was mentally running through everything when a hand came near, snatching her script away.

"Because I don't want to be graded on what I do next," Draco said in a low voice, switching off the camera with one hand while reaching out for Hermione with the other.

* * *

**A.N: I knooow, I know. Not the most action-packed chapter ever. But trust me...the ones coming up after this are going to knock your socks off! Firstly, _never forget_ is put into italics for a reason. Secondly, hmmm...Mr. Riley acting a little weird? And thirdly how soon exactly will our lovely couple be returning to Hogwarts, and under what conditions?**

**Well - if you have any ideas or theories, let me know with a review! I wonder how many of you can guess what's going to come up next!**

**xx mina.**


	25. Preparations

**Preparations**

* * *

**A/N: This is a combination of two chapters. That's why it's slightly longer...but please read the authors note on the bottom aswell :)**

* * *

Tuesday came quickly, as Monday passed with little hassle. Hermione and Draco had puttered around, preparing to leave as they only had four days left and wanted to spend the majority of it doing things that interested them as opposed to preparing for their departure. 

They had taken a cab into the center, armed with their camera for pictures of the two of them. Gazing longingly into some of the exclusive shops they passed, Draco commented on the craftsmanship and skills used to make all the expensive products.

"It's hard to believe Muggles created these!" he said, pointing to the Hermes bags. "If I bought one of these for my mother and told her they were from a wizard brand she wouldn't know the difference. She'd probably like them more!"

"Well that just shows how prejudiced you are towards Muggles! There are plenty of fantastic artists out there—but Wizards automatically dismiss them just because they aren't magical!" Hermione scolded passionately. She was very keen on Draco accepting Muggles and this competition was definitely changing his opinion of them.

Thankfully, all for the better.

The pair continued walking, glancing into storefronts and chatting amicably, when Hermione stopped suddenly, finding herself completely entranced by one storefront.

"Hermione?" Draco asked, "Err...what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong with it—it's beautiful," Hermione breathed softly, pointing at one of the mannequins in the storefront. Draco stepped forward, glancing over to where she was pointing and was surprised to find that she was completely taken by an elegant black dress hanging fashionably in the front of the shop. It was definitely beautiful and now that Hermione had pointed it out, Draco was desperate to buy it for her. He had never had problems with giving gifts—it was easy enough with his surplus of money and the way they were often received.

Besides, it never failed to enamor him to the ladies.

"Let's go inside," Draco said decisively, leading Hermione toward the entrance. She paused, shaking her head.

"No Draco," Hermione objected, "this is _way_ too expensive!"

"I doubt it," he replied casually, trying to force her to enter.

"Draco you don't understand. This is Chanel—this is like, one of the most expensive brands out there! I don't know what to compare it to in Wizarding standards but I could never accept it!"

"Fine," Draco shrugged as if admitting defeat.

He'd get it for her later.

* * *

Leaving the small restaurant near the movies after a pleasant meal, Hermione explained to Draco that she had spoken to Marie earlier that day. 

"I told her everything—she was annoyed at first, but then she went and asked Pierre if he would escort her to the Gala."

"And what did he say?"

"Yes—I never thought he would! But he did, so it's okay now. We're going to meet up Friday afternoon to get ready and everything. I have to admit though that I'm a bit nervous though!" Hermione confessed.

"You shouldn't be," Draco said, leading Hermione into the cinema and staring up at the list of movies. He frowned, staring at Hermione. "Can't we just pretend we saw this stupid thing in French?"

"No! This is one of the assignments—and besides, I've already bought the tickets," Hermione objected, waving the two tickets in front of him.

"Fine," he grumbled, grabbing it and walking inside. As soon as he had entered the theater however, his demeanor changed dramatically. "This is great!" he whispered, "dark, quiet, and a little privacy—perfect for—,"

"Don't even think about it!" Hermione laughed, though she made sure to take him to the back row. He didn't know what it was notoriously used for with couples and Hermione figured that he was in for a nice surprise.

Almost two seconds into the film, Draco turned to face Hermione, who looked at him smiling. She leaned over and—,

Well, you can guess the rest.

* * *

"Shit," Hermione grumbled as they got home, "what are we going to write if we weren't really watching?" 

"What you mean—the five points in French about the movie?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. Draco smiled, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh I have a few good ideas."

* * *

_1. J'ai aimé le film - la fille était très douée. _

_2. J'espère aller encore_

_3. Il était savoureux_

_4. L'homme était beau_

_5. Inoubliable_

* * *

_new chapter_

* * *

Draco, 

What the hell has happened to you? I haven't heard a thing from you since that owl you sent after Hermione's misleading missive. So, being your one and only friend, that leaves me to wonder whether you have finally gone too far and ignited the wrath of Granger who, I'm sorry to say, could probably turn you into something putrid before you could even think to pull out your wand and ward her off.

You just need to admit defeat and I will send help immediately. But that of course would cause bruise to your ego and surely death is preferable to that.

B. Z.

* * *

Blaise, 

Your faith in me in unnerving. Unfortunately for you, I'm still alive and well. And as a further disservice to you, I am having no difficulty with my wand, or with Granger. In fact, both seem to be working out quite well.

And though I may regret asking this lest you mistake casual platitudes for actual concern, how are you faring? And where the hell are you?

D. M.

* * *

Draco, 

I'm in bloody Egypt and the one bright spot in my day is the blinding heat that causes frequent hallucinations in which Millicent is not a part.

And when you say you aren't having any difficulty with your wand or Granger, I'm praying that you mean purely in the magical sense and that you aren't alluding to some decidedly masculine part of your anatomy or the repulsive things you might be doing in Paris with the Golden Girl of Gryffindor….

B.Z.

* * *

Blaise, 

I can't make any promises….

D.M.

* * *

Hermione, 

Are you okay? Ron has been owling us nonstop to see how you're doing. I think he's afraid that you aren't answering our letters because of a certain predicament you may have gotten into in which you are not allowed to speak or contact us.

Ginny and I are doing wonderfully. There's really not much else to say other than some of the stuff we've done would certainly NOT be approved by Ron. So please, if you answer in a group letter, do NOT make mention of any of this. Ron has a tendency to get angry, and it would hardly serve any of us if he charged over to us when we really only have a few days left together….

We know that you had doubts about being paired with Malfoy but since we have neither seen missives for help or anything else to suggest you are unhappy, we can only assume that you two have reconciled your differences and are tolerating each other's company. Ginny and I had a bet that you would be moved out of the apartment by now, but since you have not forwarded a new address (or any kind of letter—what has happened to our usually-prompt friend?) we assume this is not the case.

We look forward to seeing you in a few days. Until then, take care!

Your friends,

Harry and Ginny

* * *

Dear Harry and Ginny, 

I'm sorry I have not written anything to you two in ages! Everything has been so crazy over here in Paris that I seem to have completely forgotten my head! I have so many things to explain to you that would certainly not do to write down in a letter that could be intercepted by anyone (and by anyone I most assuredly mean Ron, who would be more displeased with my actions and my change of heart than yours—at least yours makes sense!).

All I can really say right now is that I am fine and that I'm sorry I haven't maintained a correspondence with everyone!

And as for you two—just make sure that you aren't acting too foolishly. I hardly think that Ron would appreciate his baby sister coming back with a baby of her own and no promise of a wedding….

Love,

Hermione

* * *

Dear Hermione, 

Should we be worried?

Tentatively yours,

Harry and Ginny

* * *

Dear Harry and Ginny, 

All you have to worry about is Ron catching the two of you in a less-than-platonic position.

Lovingly yours,

Hermione

* * *

To: Hermione 

From: Marie

Hey Hermione! I got ur invite 4 the party and I can't wait!

* * *

To: Marie 

From: Hermione

Thanks for the response! I look forward to seeing you and Pierre there! Ciao!

* * *

Hermione sat back on the couch, exhausted from having spent the morning catching up on her correspondences. She had been up since six writing pleasant greetings to her friends lest they think she had forgotten them or, worse, was ignoring them. Then Marie had text messaged her asking for details on the dinner party Hermione had graciously agreed to host that evening and Hermione had been caught up in a whole new whirlwind of activity. 

For one of their last remaining assignments, Hermione and Draco were required to host a dinner party for friends. Fortunately, Hermione and Draco had acquired few lasting friendships during their stay and therefore had only decided to invite Marie, Pierre, and Mr. Riley as companions. All of that was good in the sense that Hermione didn't have to prepare a feast for the evening's meal, but she was hesitant nonetheless, having never hosted anything of great quality before.

Draco on the other hand, seemed completely nonplussed by the preparations and had spent his morning sending and receiving owls from lord only knew where. On one occasion, Hermione had been sure that the owl was carrying something decidedly inappropriate, but by the time she had paused long enough to make out what it was, the owl had disappeared and she was left to wonder.

It seemed, for Draco, that the evening party was just one of many that he had attended throughout his lifetime, and he saw no reason why this one should be any different. He had been raised among parties, shuffling from business associate to business associate, making acquaintances and alliances that his father assured him would benefit him in the future. They had all been long and dull, with his mother playing hostess extraordinaire, dazzling guests and their wives with her calm elegance. This, he decided, would be no different.

Unfortunately, Draco had overlooked one tiny detail; in the absence of house elves, _he _would be in charge of some of the preparations.

"Draco, can you come here a minute?" Hermione called, luring Draco from the bedroom to the kitchen where she was standing, hunched over a cookbook.

"What is it?" Draco wanted to know, trying to read the recipe over Hermione's shoulder. She pushed him away, her eyes traveling from the page to his face.

"There's no way we can do this—not without magic anyway."

"So let's use magic," Draco suggested casually. Hermione looked shocked.

"Draco!" She scolded, "You know we aren't allowed to use magic! Besides, what will our guests say if something suddenly starts reacting in their stomachs! Can Muggles even eat food prepared by magic?"

"How should I know?" Draco shrugged, picking up a pea from the counter and taking a small bite. His distaste of the legume was evident in his features and he hastily moved to replace it.

"Don't you dare put that back," Hermione warned, her eyes glued to the cookbook. Draco smiled slowly and tossed it into the trash, careful not to upset any of Hermione's other preparations, which had all been laid out on the surrounding countertops.

"Why don't you just relax Hermione and tell me what you need done," Draco suggested, moving so that he stood behind Hermione. He put his hands on her tense shoulders and began massaging her slowly. Hermione relaxed at once, the cookbook sagging in her arms.

"I need—uh, you really should—well, that's to say, it would be most helpful if—," Hermione stumbled, enjoying the feel of Draco's strong hands kneading into her shoulders to articulate anything of worth. Finally, she straightened and pulled away, with some obvious difficulty. "Draco, I need you to start washing some of these vegetables."

"That was hardly what I had in mind," Draco mumbled as Hermione thrust the colander full of vegetables into his hands. She shrugged, turning her attentions back to the cookbook.

"Now if I could only figure out how to cook this thing, things would be great," Hermione mumbled to herself, her brow furrowing in confusion. Draco smiled at her obvious aggravation, but moved to the sink with the vegetables nonetheless.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

A.N: **Ok, I know some of you will be like - where the hell is the action?! But I'm afraid I kinda meant to say the action would be appearing a bit later...like, 2 or 3 chapters later on. I need these fillers you see - and to be honest, this isn't too bad of a chapter! All the details are important, and although it's not the most exciting of chapters to read there are some vital things included in each one them! They are completely necessary, so please keep faith! Look, here's the deal: **

**If you give me _alot_ of reviews for this chapter (because it _is_ two chapters),** _I will update alot sooner_**. (like this week, possibly a few days time if I get alot) which is best for everyone! They're all up here (the next chapters), ready to be uploaded. And no-one wants them to be put online more than me! So gimme reviews, and I will give you amazing chapters.**

**I hope you did like what I came up with - though in actual fact it was my amazing beta who wrote this (and the next) chapter. oh and try to translate the french bit. It's quite nice, despite the fact my French is not up to standards!**

**xx mina**


	26. Whining and Dining

**_Whining_ and Dining**

Several hours later, Hermione was quite certain that the party was a success.

Somehow in the five hours before guests had arrived, Hermione and Draco had managed to pull together a halfway decent meal, consisting of chicken cordon bleu, baked potatoes, and a seasonal vegetable medley that Draco was proud to say he had orchestrated with only minimal interference from Hermione.

To Hermione's delight, all their guests had been on time, and, to Draco's delight, they had brought wine to share. Marie and Pierre looked lovely and, though Pierre stared a bit too long at Hermione during the meal, and Marie's gaze may have lingered indecently long on Draco who bent over to pick up a dropped fork, they seemed happy enough. Even Mr. Riley appeared to have forgotten his awkward exchange with Hermione regarding Draco, and had relaxed into an ease which was positively contagious.

"So who knew you two would be able to work together to create something like this," Mr. Riley commented after his second helping of pie. "When you two got here I thought you would kill each other within the week!"

"I guess we were pretty awful," Hermione recalled, exchanging a small smile with Draco who didn't bother to disagree. "I thought I hated you."

"I can assure you that the feeling was mutual," Draco put in.

"Well you were hardly loveable."

"I'll give you that," Draco agreed, a small smile on his face. Marie looked confused.

"So if you guys detested each other, how did you end up together?" She wondered, prompting Hermione and Draco to regard each other quizzically. They couldn't pinpoint the day or the hour that things had changed for them—it had just started. They had been in the middle of it before either of them realized that something had started at all. Finally, Draco shrugged.

"Pure animal attraction," he joked, "she couldn't keep her hands off of me."

"Oh please—I was beating you off with a stick!" Hermione put in, though her tone was void of all ire.

"Well Pierre and I are better for it I suppose," Marie put in with a coy smile. "We would never have realized how perfect we were for each other if you two hadn't suggested we get together!"

Pierre looked slightly dubious of this assertion but said nothing, only glanced at Hermione as if to ascertain the real reason for her newfound feelings toward Draco. Thankfully, Mr. Riley coughed a little, taking a slow sip of his wine and successfully diverting everyone's attentions before things could turn awkward.

"Well, had I known this whole thing would be a couple's party, I would have found myself a date," Mr. Riley said in calm, joking tones. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth though, aghast at her own lack of foresight.

"Oh Mr. Riley, I'm so sorry! Of course I should have allowed you to bring a date! I didn't even think about how awkward it would be for you! And here we are, all talking about being a couple and everything while you are just sitting there! How awful of me!"

Hermione's fears were lost on the gentle countenance of Mr. Riley though as he waved away her concerns with a shrug.

"Miss Granger, I can assure you that you did nothing wrong. I am perfectly happy to listen to the follies of youth, as it has been far too long since I myself experienced them. You and your friends are a breath of fresh air for my tired old soul."

"Oh but you're not old!" Hermione contradicted as Marie hurriedly agreed.

"Not terribly so!" Marie cried. Mr. Riley laughed softly, shaking his head.

"You two are too kind," he commented before launching into another topic of conversation.

And so it went. It wasn't the most intellectual group, but the company was kind and Hermione was pleased to find that the whole experience was a lot less painful than she had anticipated. Draco even seemed to relax for a while, laughing softly at some of the jokes Mr. Riley told and talking animatedly with Pierre about working at the shop, and deciding to take some time away. Every so often, Hermione was delighted to find that his hand found her knee and Draco was not shy about tracing little circles with his finger along the length of her leg. Toward the end of the meal, he even allowed Hermione to sit while he cleared the table.

All in all, it was a clear success.

* * *

Later that night, after their guests had left for the evening, Hermione and Draco found themselves sprawled on the couch, utterly exhausted from the panic of preparations to the clean up.

"I can't believe some people do this all the time!" Hermione sighed incredulously. Draco nodded in agreement.

"I definitely have more respect for my own Mother," Draco noted tiredly.

"How can she do this several times per week?"

"Hundreds of house elves do help," Draco pointed out. Hermione frowned.

"Please tell me there aren't _hundreds_." Draco smiled at her distress.

"Whatever makes you feel better."

"Oh Draco, if you would only go to one S.P.E.W. meeting you would see the—,"

"Hermione, right now I would do anything to get you to stop talking about house elves and start talking about getting into bed."

Hermione's mouth dropped open at the bluntness of Draco's intentions, but to her surprise, she couldn't think of any sort of reprimand.

Because suddenly, the rather large bed in the next room seemed like more than enough.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, so, our lovely authoress is actually in New York right now enjoying what I hope to be a wonderful vacation, so I (pink-levicorpus) did the chapter and updated today. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and is soaking up the fluff! I'm sure mina would love to come back to some really great feedback, though, so please tell us what you think of this chapter! Until next time,

p-lc


	27. The Storm

**The Storm**

That night, there was a storm.

It was no normal storm, Draco observed, but a magical one. Something was brewing in the outside world. He had not heard what was _really_ going on back in England, and the only news that was coming in was through his friends, who had not told him of anything either. Nor had his father contacted him of anything serious. But this was no normal storm, it was a magical storm and magical storms signified importance.

No, he decided, something is going on _out there_.

He walked to the large windows, and held his hand against the cold glass, as if he could figure it out by looking at the city. He could see a few cars desperately trying to get to their homes amidst the storm, and the hotel across from the apartment glowed in the pouring rain. For a second, everything suddenly shone brightly, making the whole city positively radiate. And then as soon as it had come, everything went dark.

Power cut.

Draco could not see anything, and as if he was attracted to the sudden darkness of the once lit city, he drew closer to the window. His breath formed patches on the window and then, without warning, a streak of lighting crashed right ahead of the glass. He could vaguely hear Hermione jump back in fear, but he had faced worse things than just a flash of light in front of him.

_No, _he thought, _something is very wrong._

"Draco..." Hermione whispered, "What's going on?"

He could feel her move closer to him. With the next streak of lighting, he saw her reflection in the glass, and she looked pale and frightened.

"I don't know," he said simply, still looking at the dead city. But Draco was lying. At least, partially. He didn't know what exactly was going on, but he did know one thing.

This was how their raids were supposed to start.

* * *

"We need light," Draco said to Hermione, "we won't know if something's going on if we can't see anything." 

"In case you haven't noticed, there's no electricity," Hermione pointed out. Draco pointed to the living room, and Hermione understood immediately.

"The fireplace," she whispered.

"Well done," Draco smirked in an effort to keep Hermione calm. He didn't want her to worry any more than necessary and assumed joking would work to lighten the mood. Walking to the central area of the apartment, he lit the fire with matches. He turned to face an anxious Hermione, who was repeatedly glancing to the window. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew it was big.

"Draco," she began curiously but he quickly cut her off.

"Hermione, please don't ask me," he begged.

Hermione swallowed. He did know. He knew _they _were coming.

They were coming, not to find him, he hoped, but to find those supporting the Light side. He recalled hearing his father speaking about some sort of plan to terrorize neighboring countries into supporting the Dark Lord but Draco had never realized that things were supposed to start so soon or how close they were going to be to him.

And to Hermione.

It occurred to him how dangerous it was, the two of them in the middle of a city, without wands, with a war going on around them. He wondered vaguely what he would do if anyone or anything did come to the apartment. Frightened, Draco tried to block that unhappy thought out, hoping he'd never have to be forced to make that decision.

Because how could he explain to Hermione how he knew the Death Eaters were coming to attack without then proving that he was one himself?

"Um," Hermione mumbled, noticing how Draco was visibly tensing, "do you want a drink?"

"Hermione, if anyone comes, you have to hide. Promise me that you won't defend me or something else disgustingly Gryffindor. Just make sure no one sees you." Hermione paled, gripping Draco's hand tighter in her own.

"Draco, don't—please don't make me promise something like that! No one is going to come here!"

But Hermione had spoken prematurely because suddenly, there was banging on the apartment door.

* * *

Hermione and Draco stood still in the apartment, too afraid to move. Draco tried to relax and give Hermione the impression that he knew what was going on but he was shaky and his heart was beating so quickly that he was nearly positive anyone who listened close enough could hear it. Shaking off the feeling of uncertainty, Draco signaled for Hermione to be still, and he slowly walked toward the door, where the pounding was becoming more erratic. 

Hermione walked slowly behind Draco, gently touching his shoulder, as if to assure him that she was right behind him. Draco didn't seem to notice however and instead of accepting the assurance, he took her hand and pushed her out of the way of the door. If she were to get hurt, Draco would never forgive himself.

Then, with a courage he didn't feel, Draco grabbed the door handle and threw open the door.

And standing there was Mr. Riley.

Draco sighed in relief, and Hermione stood next to him to face the intruder.

"Mr. Riley!" she sighed, "We thought it was," she glanced over at Draco, and then back to Mr. Riley, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"Can I come inside please?" Mr. Riley asked, glancing nervously around the hallway as if expecting someone to come bounding inside at any moment.

Draco and Hermione looked at each other, and then Hermione nodded.

"Of course, come on in."

"Thank you," he said, "we need to talk."

"About?" Draco snapped. He was still on edge about the storm and the thought of having to do anything in front of Mr. Riley only made him more uncomfortable.

Mr. Riley sat down on the sofa, and Hermione followed suit, sitting across from him. Draco walked over toward Hermione and stood next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder. He stared scathingly at Mr. Riley, prompting him to continue.

"I found out when I saw the owl drop off a letter this morning. I told Marc—the receptionist—how my letters would be delivered by owls, not by normal post. He thought it was strange, but said nothing of it. So when I saw the owl drop off the letter at your apartment, well, I thought it was for me. So I had a bit of a shock when I saw it was addressed to you Miss Granger."

Mr. Riley reached into his pocket and extracted the letter.

"And then of course when you corrected me about Mr. Malfoy's last name—,"

"But I don't understand what this has to do with anything!" Hermione cut in.

"Miss. Granger, I'm working in the Ministry in Paris. I've been helping _your_ side, don't you understand? They're out looking for me now, and I'm afraid that this storm—,"

"Wait, so you're a—you're a—?" Hermione couldn't seem to finish her sentence but Mr. Riley understood her perfectly. He nodded, almost apologetically.

"Yes Miss Granger—I'm a wizard."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yes, it was short. But hopefully it was informative. Trouble's a brewing and big things are to come for our hero and heroine. Here in the real world though, Mina is anxiously awaiting reviews and summer (at least for me) is coming to an end! There will be another update soon to make up for this short chapter though, so don't worry! Answers are coming! Have a lovely day!

P-lc


	28. The Ball

**The Ball**

* * *

Hermione woke late in the afternoon, after dreaming about how Mr. Riley was a wizard. She felt the vague pangs of realism and truth to the story, but it was too implausible. She couldn't believe it—if he really _was _on the Light side, how come she had never heard of him? How come McGonagall had placed them so close? And why hadn't she picked up on his reaction to Draco's name? It wasn't as though it was exactly common.

After his revelation, Mr. Riley had chosen to sleep the night in Hermione and Draco's apartment, so Hermione found herself walking toward the living room to check on him. When she arrived out there though, she found herself completely alone with only a hastily written, "Thanks for last night—I think everything is safe now" note left on the coffee table. Hermione frowned, picking up the note. It wasn't exactly your typical Hallmark message.

Still confused, Hermione glanced out the window and took comfort in the fact that the sky was a brilliant blue, as all evidence of the storm had disappeared, as if it had never happened. Off in the distance though, a faint red glow seemed to have settled over the horizon and Hermione quickly tore her eyes away, willing herself to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. Instead, she glanced to her watch and realized how late she was for her meeting with Marie.

Hurrying back to the bedroom where Draco was sleeping, she gave him a quick kiss, and told him she'd see him again tonight. After yawning a bit, he told her to take a parcel with her to Marie's. Nodding, she took it and left.

She failed to notice the note taped to it, reading: "To Hermione".

* * *

"So how many people are coming tonight?" Hermione asked Marie nervously, while she was getting her nails painted. 

Admittedly, she looked better than usual—but the payoff was beginning to take a toll on Hermione. It hurt a hell of a lot more than what you got for it. She couldn't understand how Marie did this for fun, it was just pure torture. Especially waxing. She grimaced at the mere thought of it.

"Loads! This is like, the social event of the year!" Marie gushed, "And _I _organized it!"

"Are you nervous at all?" Hermione asked, privately hoping Marie would relay some hidden fear so Hermione wouldn't feel quite so alone. No such luck.

"Of course not! This is my time to shine—especially with Pierre!" Marie giggled. "And you and Draco of course," she added in a slightly bitter undertone. Hermione smiled, taking comfort in this thought.

Draco….

* * *

Draco stretched his arms as he walked into the kitchen, only just coming to terms with the events of the previous evening. The storm had been troubling—much more so to Draco who knew he would hardly get off with a warning if his father were to catch him—and Mr. Riley's exposure had come as something of a shock. All in all, it had just plain worn Draco out and he wasn't surprised to find that he had slept through most of the day. Glancing at his watch, he realized there were only a few hours until the gala, and made himself a double cup of coffee. 

For a second, Draco allowed himself to marvel over the transformation he had completed in the last few weeks. Before, he had had no idea there were such things as coffee machines, let alone how to use one. He had become so accustomed to using Muggle appliances that he knew he would appreciate having his wand back that much more when he finally got it back. At first, it had been hard to adjust without it. It was the little things that seemed so much more effort without it, like _Reparo, _or _Lumos_, but now, Draco was surprised to find, he hardly noticed the difference.

Taking his cup, he walked to the window. He thought about Mr. Riley being a wizard and inwardly kicked himself for it. How could he not have noticed? He had been raised to detect subterfuge of any kind and here he was, living next door to someone for weeks and never once even guessing his secret affiliations. It was damn embarrassing, is what it was and Draco found himself more upset by it than he realized. If he hadn't noticed Mr. Riley's deception, what else was he missing?

And why, pray tell, hadn't anyone from Hogwarts mentioned it before? It was rather odd, that they would have been left so close to another wizard. Clearly McGonagall would have known where the more prominent members of the French wizarding community thrived and she would not have placed them so close. Unless—maybe she had done it on purpose. Maybe she had expected something like this and wanted more protection for them. But was it just Hermione and Draco, or had everyone been placed near a secret supervisor?

Draco couldn't be sure and found his thoughts drifting toward the storm of the previous evening. The city didn't appear ravaged and the raids had done little, if anything, to the inhabitants. It was comforting for the moment, but Draco dreaded when the real butchery would start.

Then it hit him and Draco was flooded with relief. Tonight was their last night in Paris and then they would be able to go back and return to Hogwarts and thrive under the protection that the school offered. Only one more night and then—

Then things would go back to normal.

* * *

"So you're not going to wear the LBD from Saks?" Marie asked, as Hermione pulled out one of her other dresses she had brought from England. 

"LBD?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Little Black Dress," Marie quipped.

"I thought it was a little inappropriate," Hermione replied.

"But this is cute!" Marie said, pulling out the Chanel dress from the package Hermione had been lugging along with her all day.

Hermione sucked in her breath as she realized Draco had bought it for her. It was the one from the storefront that Hermione had adamantly refused to buy. It had been too expensive, too elaborate, too—_perfect. _Hermione blushed as she held the dress up to her body, twirling around for Marie who looked the tiniest bit envious until she turned to her own expansive wardrobe.

Hermione disrobed quickly and slipped the dress over her head, turning in front of the mirror. She had never been a vain person, but Hermione was confident enough in her self-image to admit she looked pretty good. Smoothing the material out, she turned to Marie for approval. She nodded and smiled happily at Hermione.

Marie remembered the timid, shy little girl who had come into the office the very first day, wearing slightly baggy jeans and a wooly jumper, but had now developed into an elegant, fashionable young lady. Marie liked to think this was all her doing.

But mostly it was Draco's.

* * *

Hermione and Marie stepped out of the car, at least twenty minutes too late. Marie explained it had nothing to do with being 'fashionably late', but it was always best to get a bit of an audience when you first enter, and that the party only really started at least fifteen minutes after the time given on the invitation. 

"Besides, we don't want to have to wait for our dates to arrive. They'll already by there!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione laughed at her friend. They walked up the carpet and Hermione couldn't help but think that Marie wasn't the only one who had this kind of logic. Plenty of other people were only just arriving, and the photographers were happily clicking away as they both entered through the grand doors.

They had come to the end of a sort of queue to enter the actual ball-room and as Hermione looked to Marie for an answer, she could hear that each person was being formally announced to everyone. Marie had somehow managed to get ahead of Hermione, but the line moved quickly so Hermione didn't mind much.

Finally reaching the stairway, and the announcer, Hermione gave him her name and proceeded to walk down the large stairway.

"Miss Hermione Granger!" The announcer called.

Hermione walked down the stairway elegantly and a few people turned to look. In the distance she could see an ecstatic Marie dragging Pierre to the dance floor, who gave her a feeble wave. She also immediately spotted the platinum blonde, downing a glass off champagne at the bar.

Smiling politely, she made her way over to him, but he had been watching her approach and strode toward her. He shot a few other men dangerous looks and they shrank away from Hermione.

"Bloody French," Draco muttered, "can't leave you alone for one second and they—," but he left the sentence unfinished. Instead he twirled Hermione around, so he could admire her from all angles.

"You look stunning," he said.

Blushing lightly, Hermione managed a thanks to him for the compliment and the dress. Glancing around, Hermione noticed that the line had finished and that the head of the bank and his wife were now officially opening the Gala, with the first dance.

The live band struck up the first few notes, and people watched the two waltzed perfectly, with the grace of two people who had been dancing together for years. As the music came to a gradual stop everyone clapped as the manager bowed, and kissed his wife's hand.

Many other couples then filled the floor, and Draco took Hermione's hand and asked her to dance. Agreeing, the two fell into a slow rhythm, which suited them both. Stepping closer to him, Hermione realized that she had never felt such strong feelings for anyone before.

The pair broke apart as the music stopped, and Draco kissed Hermione softly on the cheek. Taking his hand, she led him toward Pierre and Marie. For the better part of twenty minutes the group stood talking to each other, drinking and laughing at various conversational bits that they happened to pick up.

It was only when Marie commented on the absence of Mr. Riley that Draco and Hermione tensed. Excusing themselves, they decided to dance once more, hoping to avoid Marie's question.

This time the dance was at a much slower pace, and it was much more intimate than before. They swayed in unison, and soon they found that both had left the room completely and were in their own perfect little world away from everyone else.

However, this did not last long.

The lights suddenly flickered on and off, and people turned to face each other in confusion, searching for an explanation. It was only when Hermione heard someone yell, "_Nox", _that she realized they were in big trouble.

People wearing flowing, black robes flooded the hall, surrounding the guests in a neat, practiced circle. Hermione recognized the masks and realized these people were Death Eaters. Now panic had erupted among the guests, who were confused about the interruption. Surprisingly, Hermione and Draco noticed that Mr. Riley was not the only wizard associated with the bank as several others were drawing out their wands. Quickly though, the Death Eaters had charmed them from their owners and taken them for their own possession.

On the other side of the room, Hermione heard pained screams, and she found herself clutching Draco's arm as he towered over her protectively. When she had her wand she was far more confident but with the absence of magic, Hermione found that she felt as vulnerable as a Muggle, her fists useless against the magic of the Death Eaters. Draco looked unnerved too as he scanned the room, trying to find an exit. Slowly, he made his way toward the stairs, grasping Hermione's arm tightly.

He didn't get very far.

A figure loomed ahead of him, blocking their way out. The Death Eater lowered his hood slowly and as Hermione gasped softly to herself, Draco came face to face with his father.

"Draco?" Lucius asked, his voice smooth and aristocratic. Hermione shivered. "I thought I would find you here, thanks to McGonagall's half-wit plan of integration. Things are ready for you over here," Lucius explained. Draco looked unsure.

"Just a moment father, I'm disposing of this Mudblood first," Draco said finally, his voice husky and unsure. Lucius narrowed his eyes.

"You can rest assured that we will do that on our own, over there. I can assure you that with our wands we can do far worse than what you are planning," Lucius explained.

Hermione looked scared and tried to grab onto Draco's hand but he brushed her away. He couldn't let his father know what she meant to him—if he could just get Hermione out of the way of things, he could surely manage to coax his father to let him leave.

"I want to dispose of this Mudblood myself," Draco said with more venom than he knew he had, "she's been a damn thorn in my side for too long and I want to know that she's gone for good."

Draco glanced at his father, trying to asses whether he believed his son or not, but Lucius' face was aggravatingly impassive.

"Come Draco, bring her to the circle and we can make an even grander show of it," Lucius coaxed softly, "what can you do without your wand anyway? Fight like a dirty Muggle? I won't have it—she'll get the worst. Hand her to me Draco, and we'll see what she can really be forced to do."

"Father, please—,"

"Do you think I'm bloody stupid?" Lucius demanded suddenly, his voice edged with fury. Draco was taken aback.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Draco stuttered, his grip on Hermione growing stronger until Hermione feared she would have bruises so deep they would hit bone.

"Do you think I don't know what's going on?"

"What?"

"Answer me boy!" Lucius demanded, his voice deadly with white hot anger. "Do you think I don't know what you two have been doing here in Paris? Did you think I didn't see the way that you look at her and the way that she looks at you?"

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," Draco managed, but Lucius was already advancing on the couple. Draco automatically moved in front of Hermione and immediately cursed himself for doing so. He would never be able to pull of the façade of hatred now.

"Forget the Mudblood Draco, it's not too late," Lucius advised but Draco shook his head.

"I can't forget her Father," Draco said firmly, refusing to stare at Hermione.

Lucius stared into his son's eyes, and saw his own determination reflected in Draco's. He was shaking with a fury that Lucius might have admired if it were aimed at the right thing. Then, Lucius had an idea.

"Fine," Lucius smirked, "if you will not forget her, then she will forget you." He stared at Hermione, delighting in the fear he saw in her eyes. He pointed his wand directly at her.

"_Oblivate_."

* * *

**AN: Hey, it's Mina here! I've been sooo busy this summer, I had to ask my beta to upload the last chapter for me...so thanks pinklevicorpus for that! It's been a fantastic vacation, and although I don't want it to end, I'm excited for school to start again! When everything really gets rolling I'll be updating more frequently. We've almost come to an end to this fic...I'm so sad to see it go! (but don't worry, still have a couple of chapters up my sleeve!) I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review si vous plait! Enjoy the rest of your holiday - I hope you all had as much as a great time as I did! xx**


	29. Photograph

**Photograph**

* * *

Hermione stirred, but kept her eyes closed. She could sense she was lying on a bed and, judging by its comfort-level and the bustling of other patients, she realized that she was lying in the Hospital Wing. _Odd,_ she thought, _I don't remember coming here_

She recognized familiar voices.

"...and that's when he wiped out her memory!" Harry was saying, "Malfoy told me that he was trying to get Hermione away from the scene—to protect her. But Lucius caught them, and went crazy when he saw they were _together_!"

Hermione was trying her hardest not to yell out that she would _never _go out with Malfoy, and that she hadn't had her memory wiped out. She could remember exactly what had happened yesterday, she was….was….

Hermione shuddered. Maybe Harry was right?

But before she could say anything, Ron spoke.

"McGonagall told us not to mention the competition at all. She said that because they didn't win it anyway, it doesn't really matter. She told everyone not to say anything."

"That's not right!" Came Ginny's argumentative tone, "she should know what happened! Maybe she'll remember!"

"Ginny, no!" Ron said, "she shouldn't have to remember being with Malfoy!"

"Well she obviously must have liked him," Ginny shot back hotly, "and she's not stupid, she must have had some kind of reason!"

"I can't believe that Cho and Ernie won!" Harry interjected, trying to avoid an argument between the siblings, "but I guess because they're so determined to get good grades and all."

"So are Hermione and Draco! So why didn't they win?" Ginny asked crossly.

"I don't know, but you should hear about some of the people who got together" Harry said, "Pansy and Neville, Hannah and Dean…"

"And Hermione and Draco," Ron chimed in.

Hermione opened her eyes, and the whole group stopped talking and smiled warmly at her.

"Hermione!" They greeted softly, thrilled to see their friend awake.

"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked, "That was one nasty fall you had on the stairs."

Ginny cringed inwardly, hating that she was being forced to lie to her friend. But it was the most suitable excuse McGonagall could think of. It would take much longer to explain the whole situation to her—and maybe when Hermione was ready to hear the truth, they would tell her. But for now, this was the best way.

"I guess—I'm still feeling a bit tired," Hermione croaked, realizing her throat was dry and scratchy from lack of water. _Ah, I fell off some stairs_, she thought to herself, _well that would explain that conversation then. I must have just been daydreaming._ It didn't fit with what Ginny way saying and anyway.

Ginny wouldn't lie to her.

She smiled and tried to make polite conversation with her friends, but her words were forced and she felt tired and febrile with each breath. So it wasn't long before Hermione was shooting them all apologetic looks and asking them politely to leave, so she could rest a bit more. She felt as if for the past three weeks she had been completely drained from all her energy. She couldn't remember _exactly _what had made her so tired—but it was probably from her falling from the stairs. Not that she remembered that either…

Harry, Ron and Ginny smiled warmly at her, and waved goodbye. She was glad not to have anyone around her, and she wanted some time to think to herself.

But just when she thought she was completely alone, the last person she ever expected to visit her walked through the doors.

Draco Malfoy.

* * *

He walked down the line of bed, and spotted Hermione immediately. He levitated a chair to her bedside, and he sat down on it. Hermione leaned up a bit, and propped her pillow up so she could be face to face with him. 

Neither said anything for a moment, but then Draco spoke.

"Hermione," he murmured, "are you ok?"

"Since when did you care?" she snapped, "and when did _you _start calling me Hermione?"

He sighed, and put his face in his hands and bent over. He ran his hands through his hair in an agitated manner, and he looked more pale than usual.

"Hermione—they told me not to say anything, but, but," his voice sounded tired and broken, as if he had faced defeat far too many times and was now just realizing something, "I don't want to just let you go like this—without you remembering."

"Remembering what?" Hermione asked, feeling as if everyone but her was in on some huge, elaborate joke. "I don't understand."

"Hermione, can you tell me what has happened over the past three weeks?" Draco pressed softly and for a moment Hermione was startled by the way his gentle voice made her skin prickle. But when she realized she had no recollection of the past three weeks, she felt the sting of unshed tears in her eyes and felt suddenly overwhelmed.

"I—I can't recall any of it," Hermione said shakily, her voice threatening to uncover her hidden emotions. Draco sighed, reaching for her hand. Hermione moved it away and for a second, Draco looked pained. But then the hurt in his face disappeared and he took a deep breath.

"That's because my father wiped out your memory. He did it because, well," he mumbled, "we were together."

"What?!" Hermione spluttered.

She couldn't bring herself to believe this, it was too absurd. But then again—it _did _fit with what Harry, Ron and Ginny were saying. She shook her head and looked at the stressed Malfoy sitting in front of her. It made sense—but, it couldn't be true. It was impossible. She would never date Draco Malfoy.

"Don't you see how hard this is for me?" Draco growled at her, "Hermione, I hated you! You were everything I despised, a Mudblood, a Gryffindor, friends with Harry Potter. You were a physical incarnation of everything I was raised against, and yet—yet I loved you. I _still _love you, Damnit. I had to push all those preconceptions and prejudices I was raised with away and you took the time to get to know me. Despite all that we had been through, you were so patient with me. It was like trying to forget my entire life!" Draco paused, staring at Hermione sadly, "Maybe something like what you're feeling now."

Hermione bit her lip, urging herself not to show how sorry she felt for him. This was not the Draco Malfoy she used to know, but a whole new, more sensitive one. And yet she was in no way attracted to him in the way he obviously was to her. She felt guilty that she could not answer him, with something equally romantic so she remained silent while he continued.

"You have no idea what I've been through after what my father did, and I feel terrible about the whole ordeal, but," Draco paused, his voice dropping lower, "I didn't get away unscathed either."

Hermione looked at his physical appearance, and noticed a few scars where he had obviously undergone some form of physical torture. Despite this though, Hermione still felt lost. Why couldn't she remember? She willed herself to try harder, to think better, if only because it hurt her more to see Draco so lost.

But she couldn't lie to herself.

"Malfoy", Hermione began. He tensed, and she quickly corrected herself, "I mean Draco—I can't pretend that I know what you're talking about."

She took his hand, and squeezed it comfortingly, "But I think, I think whatever we had—_if _we had something at all—I think maybe it would be best if you just learned to forget it. I don't feel the same way about you, and—I need some time to think this over. I'm really sorry."

Draco looked at her and nodded, but he wasn't deterred. He would come to her every damn day if he had to, but he knew he would _never_ forget her. He'd make _her_ remember.

He just needed an item, a single memory to convince Hermione. He needed proof that he wasn't lying, or just playing her. All he needed was…

A photograph.

* * *

**AN: Hey everyone! Not much to say...hope you all had a great first week of school/work, or whatever you may have been doing! x x **


	30. Into the Fire

**Into the Fire...**

* * *

**Sorry! This is the _proper_ chapter!**

* * *

Draco handed Colin Creevey some money in exchange for the photos he had produced.

They had taken a whole lot longer to develop than Draco had anticipated, but there was no denying their worth. Flicking through them, Draco began to smile as he remembered all the things he and Hermione had experienced together. It was the perfect way to make her remember too—how could she not remember if the proof was right there in the photos? He waved Colin away and barely noticed the frightened glance the boy gave to him as he rushed off.

It had been a few days since Hermione had left the Hospital Wing. Draco had tried to talk to her once again in their shared Head's common room, but it had only ended in Hermione telling him not to talk to her about it ever again. She was still confused and disoriented and didn't like being reminded of things she knew nothing about.

He wondered how he would give her the photos. He could not give them to her in person anymore, and how could he be sure she would get them if he just left them on her bed or by her school bag? He needed to give it to her through somebody else—preferably a friend. Wondering who would do the job best, he crashed into someone coming from the other direction of the corridor he was patrolling for his head duties.

"Weasley," he said, "you're not supposed to be in the corridors now."

"Piss off Malfoy," Ron growled, "and don't you dare give me a detention or something."

"Deal," Draco replied. Ron looked slightly shocked by his easy-going attitude but sighed when he realized Draco wanted something from him, "but in return, you have to give these to Hermione." Draco shoved the pictures into Ron's hand. "Go to the heads room now and don't look at them."

"Fine," Ron murmured taking the wad of photograph's from Malfoy, making his way to the common room.

But he couldn't help but glance at the photos on the way.

* * *

By the time he had gotten common room, Ron was absolutely disgusted. 

Everything Malfoy had been saying was true—he couldn't believe it! In the photos Hermione was smiling happily while engaging in various activities with an equally-smitten Malfoy. This was unacceptable, Ron decided, and there was no way he could give Hermione the pictures. He felt as if he had to protect Hermione from Draco—she was too fragile and innocent to see something like what the pictures were displaying. There was no way Hermione could have been so happy with someone so cruel and evil.

He knocked on the door, and called out to Hermione that it was him. After a moment she opened the door, and smiled. Ron walked to the fireplace, and Hermione returned to the couch where she had been reading.

"Hermione," Ron started, "you know I love you and I would never want you to get into any kind of danger, right?"

"Of course Ron," Hermione smiled, "it's the same way I feel about you. You, along with Harry, are my best friends—I would never wish to see you get hurt."

"Then you'll thank me when I do this."

And then he threw Draco's last hopes of ever convincing Hermione that she loved him…

Into the fire.

* * *

It was now the start of the holidays, and students were saying their goodbyes as they filed out of the Great Hall to catch the carriages back to the train. 

Among all the bustling students was Hermione.

She was hugging everybody goodbye and Draco was watching her from far away. She had not said anything to him about the photos, and he was starting to doubt she ever saw them. He interrogated Ron, but he had ignored him. When Draco started to get even more frustrated, he had hit Ron, exactly when McGonagall was walking by. He had been given detention for a week, which had not helped him improve his mood.

He himself was staying at Hogwarts—he knew he wasn't welcome back home until the summer holidays, which would be the start of his initiation to become a Death Eater. He was not looking forward to returning.

"So where are you going?" Ginny called to Hermione, just before she was about to step out of the hall.

"Paris!" she called, smiling. "My parents are taking me!"

A few people turned to face her with a look of concern on their faces.

Draco had heard too.

* * *

"Its fine mum," Hermione told her mother for the umpteenth time that day, "I would want to go too, but I have some homework to do." 

"Are you sure dear?" Mrs. Granger said, "We'll be gone for a few days, and by the time we get back it'll be the end of your holidays."

"I know," Hermione replied, "but I've been in Paris for long enough to know the streets pretty well."

They had been there for a week, and Hermione and her parents had taken a hotel in the middle of the city—not too far from where she had shared an apartment with Draco, not too long ago. Her parents had run into some old friends on the third night and had been invited to travel with them for a bit—an invitation they had been hesitant to turn down. Now that they were going though, they seemed unsure about leaving Hermione for so long.

Hermione had pressed them to go—urging them to enjoy the area with their friends. It was only two days alone anyways, and they deserved to see their friends. Secretly though, Hermione was thrilled that she would be allowed to do what she pleased for two whole days. Her parents were never quite as thrilled by museums as she was, anyways.

"Ok," her dad said finally, "just be careful all right? You can never be too safe these days."

Hermione nodded, and waved goodbye to her parents.

_Yes_, she couldn't help but think.

* * *

A few hours later Hermione decided to take a walk around Place Venôme, a square in which the Ritz was situated. There were shops all around and above those, pretty buildings that Hermione assumed were apartments. It was all oddly familiar to her, even though she had only been there once or twice before. She made her way to one of the shops, and stared happily inside at all of the beautiful merchandise. 

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione spun around at the voice, looking for the source, but saw no one she recognized. Then, an elderly man smiled, and waved.

"Hermione?" he said again.

"Do I know you?" Hermione asked. His face became solemn and he shook his head. "So the spell worked I see; that's a shame."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said in confusion. She had never met this man before in her life and didn't know what spell he was talking about.

"I work for the Ministry of Magic in Paris," he said, "would you be interested in seeing it?"

Hermione paused for a moment, knowing it wasn't safe to go running off with any old man. But her curiosity got the better of her.

You know what they say…

Curiosity killed the cat.

* * *

"So this is my office," the older man finished, walking inside and pointing for her to sit opposite his desk, "We really need to talk Miss Granger." 

"Why?" Hermione asked bluntly. The tour of the building was fascinating, but she really wanted to know how he knew she was a witch and what he wanted with her.

"Miss Granger," he replied slowly, "do you recognize any of these names: Pierre, Marie, Jacque, Bols Bank—,"

Something stirred in Hermione's mind. She somehow, vaguely remembered those names, like a memory from her childhood. She nodded slowly, and Mr. Riley smiled.

He blamed himself.

He had put Hermione in danger, and because of him she was no longer together with Malfoy, or spoke to anyone from her Paris days. It was now his responsibility to get her to remember the past. It was a hard job, but it was not impossible. He needed to flood her mind with images, words, and items from the past three weeks, and if she was intelligent enough, and her brain had the capacity to process that information, she would remember. It was a slow and often emotional process. Oftentimes, witches and wizards who had been _obliviated _refused to remember, preferring the simplicity of their new lives but with Hermione, Mr. Riley felt as though it had to be done. He had to try at least to get her life back to what it had once been.

She had been so happy.

"Do you remember writing these with Pierre?" Mr. Riley wondered, handing Hermione a stack of papers, which Hermione had been working on throughout the competition. She looked with open eyes as she recognized her handwriting, and her named scrawled at the bottom of the sheet. She flicked through them, and her hands began to tremble.

She _had _to remember them, she decided resolutely. She was tired of wondering what she had been doing for three weeks, and trying to catch up with all of the half-truths her friends offered.

And then, suddenly, a memory flicked through her mind. It was brief, but she knew for certain that she had done it before. She was leaning over a desk, a pen in her hand, scrawling quickly, but elegantly over a sheet of paper, with a man she presumed was Pierre working opposite her. He glanced quickly up at Hermione and smiled.

"Did Pierre," Hermione asked slowly, as if speaking would ruin the memory altogether, "did he like me?"

"Very much so, he spoke to me often about you," Mr. Riley assured her, "but we must continue. Do you remember this at all?"

He had a few photographs of the apartment from when she and Draco had lived in it. Hermione could see herself casually reading on the sofa, whilst Malfoy was nodding his head to some music. There were many other photographs.

"And look at this one," Mr. Riley said, handing Hermione another item from the past and the life she could no longer remember.

"STOP!" she screamed. She was now sobbing hysterically, feeling oddly out of sorts. It wasn't possible that any of this was true—yet it was all in front of her. Another life that Hermione had no recollection of, laid out in front of her for her inspection. She felt as if she had some kind of disorder or had blacked out. She couldn't have done all this—but the evidence in front of her said otherwise. It just couldn't be true...yet there it was. It had to stop…

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, gathering her things before standing up.

She had to go.

* * *

**A.N: Hey peoples. Was my birthday couple of days ago! Please review...the story is almost coming to a close now! xx**


	31. The Beginning of the End

**The Beginning of the End**

* * *

Hermione raced out of the office, determined to make her way back to the hotel room. 

In the months of her recuperation, various professors and friends had attempted to bring back tidbits of her memory to recover what had been lost in the accident, but nothing had worked. And now, after months of confusion, some stranger in Paris had been the only one who had made any sense to her. The only problem though was that the whole situation wasn't making any sense to her.

It was strange, having some strange Parisian know more about her own life than she did. Hermione, the girl who had always craved knowledge and worked so hard to know everything now could not even piece together the puzzle of her own life.

And it was driving her crazy.

Hermione raced down the hallways of the French Ministry, searching for a way out. She was tired of listening to other people explaining her life to her and afraid of what she might find out about herself in the end.

"Just get out of here," Hermione hissed to herself, racing down the stairs. She was three steps from the bottom when something made her stop. It wasn't a remembrance exactly, but more so of a flash; a flash that, when she stopped to acknowledge it, blossomed into a memory. She was with Draco, walking down the streets of Paris, not terribly far from where she was now. Then she and Draco were in an apartment. Then she was at the bank with a girl and the strange Mr. Riley. But suddenly, things weren't so strange. Things made sense. Hermione knew who the people were and she knew what she was doing and as far as Draco went—,

"I have to seem him—_now_," Hermione cried, glancing around. She had expected to find an empty hallway, but to her surprise, Mr. Riley had followed her out of the office and into the hall. "I need to go back; I need to talk about it—I need to find Draco!"

"Everything?" Mr. Riley wanted to know, walking up behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder and patted it comfortingly. His eyes were hopeful but his tone was guarded, as if afraid to let himself believe she had truly been cured. "You really remember everything?"

"Yes, yes I think so," Hermione said. "I remember the contest and coming to Paris and my relationship with Draco and everything. I remember everything," she stated emphatically.

Hermione closed her eyes, and it was as if a film was playing in her mind. From the moment she had learnt they were going to be together, till the night of the gala, she could recall all the tiny details. The way he would wrap his pinkie finger around hers when they were sitting on a bench, or how he would come up behind her just to hold her tightly against him. She missed his touch, his breath on her neck, his arms, his hands, and his—his everything.

Hermione was surprised to find herself shaking and clenching her hands into tight fists.

"How could I have done this to him?" she demanded of herself, "He has no one and I turned him away too! How could I ever doubt his story?"

Tears were pouring out of her eyes, and Mr. Riley had never seen someone so young lose it so quickly. Hermione had been doing an awful lot of crying recently but Mr. Riley had never been privy to this particularly emotional facet of her character.

"We will go to Hogwarts immediately," he said determinedly.

"How?"

"Apparate, of course," he said curtly, standing up and taking her arm.

"But not in the grounds, because—, "

"No Miss Granger," he smiled, "not in the grounds."

She took his arm, and the familiar feeling of dizziness came over her. Briefly, she worried about her reception with Draco. Would he take her back? Would he love her still?

She had only just remembered him—but had he now forgotten her?

* * *

"Thank you!" Hermione called to Mr. Riley as she ran toward the large school, "I could never have done anything without you!" 

Hermione waved as she ran up to the school gates and Mr. Riley's smiling face disappeared as she slipped inside, and ran to the castle. Opening the doors, and sprinting down the halls, many people turned to stare at her.

"Hypocrite," some people mumbled as she zoomed past. Hermione had constantly told people to 'stop running down the corridors!', and now she was breaking her own cardinal rule. For the moment though, it didn't matter to Hermione—all that mattered was finding Draco.

Ignoring this, she burst into the common room.

"Draco?" she yelled.

No reply.

"Draco!" she yelled hysterically. She glanced around and found herself near tears when Draco's slumped form was nowhere to be found. _Be realistic, _Hermione told herself, _he could be anywhere. Just take a deep breath and check the library or the Great Hall or anywhere else. _

It wasn't exactly the comfort Hermione had hoped for and she was horrified to find herself tearing up. She needed to find Draco and more importantly, she needed to get a grip on herself before she did. She had dismissed him for so long and she wanted to be able to properly articulate her sorrow. Instead, she found that she had trouble taking a breath when she wasn't in the same room as him.

_Come on Hermione, get a grip on yourself, _she coached mentally, willing herself to take a breath and find Draco. But suddenly, things seemed so much harder. She had raced to find Draco only to come up empty. Each second felt crucial and Hermione was having a hard time simply processing all of the recalled events from the past few weeks.

"Draco, where are you?" Hermione sighed to herself, falling onto the common room couch. She felt like she could—and wanted—to sleep for days, but first and foremost, she wanted to find Draco. She wanted to make sure he understood her feelings toward him and that he knew that she completely remembered everything that had happened. She wanted him to know that she felt the same way.

"Hermione?"

Hermione shot upright, startled by Draco's sudden appearance. He was standing in the doorway, frozen, as if afraid to move, lest the image of Hermione disappear as quickly as she had appeared. He had waited so long for this moment that it hardly seemed possible that it was real.

For a second, the pair merely stared at each other, neither one daring to move. Then, Draco took a deep breath and asked, "Are you alright?"

Hermione exhaled a breath she hadn't known herself to be holding and smiled widely for the first time in months. He still cared. He hadn't said anything specific but Hermione could tell. She could tell from the way he was looking at her, his eyes questioning and his stance ready to protect. He still had feelings for her.

He still loved her.

"Draco!" Hermione cried, rushing over to him. She nearly tripped over her own feet but took comfort in the strength of Draco's arms. "Oh my god Draco, I'm so sorry I didn't remember anything beforehand!"

Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's neck as he stared at her in amazement.

"Does—do you mean to say—you've remembered?" He asked in a half whisper. Hermione answered with a kiss, pulling him close to her and reveling in the feel of him.

Draco held her close, unable to keep a large smile off his normally-passive face. They may have had their differences in the past, but for the moment, neither had any doubts in their minds.

And they owed it all to Paris.

**THE END.**


	32. Epilogue

**Epilogue to 'Paris Days'**

* * *

Hermione was blindfolded. 

Despite the blindfold however, Hermione could feel a cool breeze sweeping over her face, sending shivers racing up and down her limbs. She felt as if she were floating, heading upwards, and panic coursed through her body until someone's arm wrapped around her waist. Exhaling slowly, Hermione smiled. She felt safe—as if nothing could harm her while she was wrapped in Draco's arm.

"It's okay Hermione, follow me," he whispered huskily into her ear.

Pushing her slightly, he guided Hermione down a path that only he could see. She was scared, knowing that she was at some high elevation and possibly in some sort of peril. It was eerily quiet and the only sound Hermione could make out was their footsteps walking over the ground.

"Put your hands forward," the voice commanded and then, in a gentler tone, "I won't let you fall."

Hermione reached out, blindly feeling for the railing.

"I'm going to take off the blindfold now," he breathed and Hermione sucked in a breath.

"Don't let go of me," she whispered unnecessarily as Draco undid the knot of the blindfold, gently pulling it away.

"Open your eyes!"

Hermione gasped, staring at the scene spread out before her. They were standing overlooking the city, illuminated by the snow and the full moon. Immediately, Hermione realized she was on the highest floor of the Eiffel Tower and that she was all alone save for her and Draco. Turning around, Hermione smiled at him, her face alight with adoration.

"Oh Draco, this is perfect," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

"Hermione—I want you to have this."

Draco felt in his pocket, looking for the small box which he had bought earlier that morning.

He got down on one knee, and he looked at the twenty-two year old, ministry-working, Hermione Granger. So much had happened since their kiss in the common room.

They had kept their relationship low-key, as per Hermione's request. Hermione detested the idea that she and Draco would be labeled "high-school sweethearts" for the rest of their lives and so fought to maintain control over the relationship. She always vaguely knew that she and Draco would get together properly when they were older—but she didn't want everyone to think that the only man in her life would be the one she married.

Draco had not protested, and in return he was granted evenings alone in the common room, which were filled with lust and passion toward each other—after a day full of small winks, and brushing past each other in the corridors, behind their secret facade of hatred. This suited the both of them well, for they both knew that eventually the time would come where their friends would put aside their differences, and not complain of their liaisons. But for now, their 'secret' would have to stay just that.

After Hogwarts, Draco had returned home to his father. Hermione was desperate for him not to go, but he had had no choice in the matter. Hermione had feared she would never see him again and her fears appeared justified for she rarely saw or heard from Draco in the summer of the war. In the summer, the war reached treacherous highs and blissful lows until it finally came to its grand crescendo—the battle in which Harry was to be christened as "The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice".

But while everyone else was celebrating their final victory, and the dead and lost were forgotten, Hermione found she could not dispel the image of Draco from her mind. She hadn't seen him since the end of Hogwarts but something in her conscious told her that he was out there, waiting. So she continued to search, and after a while, when she had still found no sign of him, he had suddenly arrived at her house out of the blue, disheveled, hurt, and broken.

He never spoke of his troubles or his experiences during the war and it killed him that Hermione had to see him so weak and vulnerable. He didn't want her to think he was weak and feeble. But she didn't mind. She looked after him, and Hermione knew then, that she would never let him go.

And she hadn't.

Several weeks after the reunion, the two moved into Draco's manor. His father had died serving Voldemort, and his mother had long since fled and was presumed dead as well. However, as soon as Hermione had finally received her promotion at the Ministry, the two decided it would be easier for the both of them (seeing as Draco was working there too, though he was always startlingly vague as to what he actually _did_) to move into the city. They bought a large, but seemingly modest, penthouse on the bank of the Thames and kept the Draco's manor for when they were older, which they both presumed meant, for the kids.

The two were happy together and at some point they had moved on from the petty trivialities of their earlier courtship and had reached a whole new level together.

And now, several months after having moved into the new house, they were on holiday together in Paris, as Hermione had only just discovered.

"Hermione Granger," Draco carried on, "will you marry me?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and she spluttered a happy, "Yes—yes of course!"

And as it began, years ago, so it would evolve—in Paris.

* * *

A/N: I have so much to say, but really I want to just draw everything to a close and make this short. I have worked on this fic for about a year now - and it's been a great experiance. All of you (well, mostly!) have been so supportive of my work and it makes me happy to see that my hard work has all payed off. Thank you again, and I hope you won't forget 'Paris Days'. A quick thank you to my wonderful beta: pinklevicorpus. I should pay her! She's amazing...

Lots and lots of love,  
xx mina


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